


The Starting Place

by DaydreamDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ABO, ABO dynamics, Alpha Castiel, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst With A Happy End, BDSM, Blowjobs, Bondage, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, Dean in Panties, Dirty Talk, Edging, Friends to Lovers, Heat Sex, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mating Bites, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pining, NSFW Art, Needy Dean, Omega Dean, Paddling, Panty Kink, Pining, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Romance, Sensation Play, Sex to Lovers, Smut, Spanking, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, alpha/beta/omega, couch related sexual activities, handjobs, heat - Freeform, humiliation play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamDestiel/pseuds/DaydreamDestiel
Summary: Going back to Lawrence was on Dean's list of things to never, ever do. Unfortunately, life—or in this case, death—made a mockery of even the best laid plans. Still, when he went home for his dad's funeral with Sam, Dean had no idea who would be waiting there to turn his entire world upside down.Cas had spent so many of his teenage years in love with his best friend Sam’s big brother that he was half-convinced he’d embellished Dean's attributes in his memory. Too bad for his heart that when Dean came back, he'd only gotten more attractive with age. He was still the best looking omega Cas’d ever known. Even worse was that Dean was attracted to him too because no matter how much Cas wanted him, Dean was only there until he fixed up John's house, then he was headed back to California.So the question was, could they keep their hearts from breaking when he did?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. First off, I just wanted to say what an absolute pleasure it's been working on this fic. From the very first moment my claim got approved, all the way to publishing [@deancebra](http://deancebra.tumblr.com) has been amazing. 
> 
> When I came along with multiple ideas to choose from for this amazing art prompt, we ended up deciding to combine them and this pretty massive (for being written in a few weeks) fic was born. There was much squee, and cheerleading, and enthusiasm for this story. So I just want to take a minute to thank [@deancebra](http://deancebra.tumblr.com) for being so fantastic. Thank you. <3 It was so fun working with you. <3 
> 
> Make sure you check out the artpost [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14846805) and send lots of love. Or see the art in higher quality [here](https://deancebra-art.tumblr.com/post/174597496468/warning-nsfw-very-graphic-porn-underneath-the).
> 
> Secondly, [@aleeliah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleeliah/pseuds/aleeliah) wonderfully offered to beta this for me and made the whole experience phenomenal. Her comments and advice gave me much needed insight, made me laugh out loud, and got me excited to edit. I will genuinely never stop being grateful for her help. <3<3 
> 
> Finally, the mods for this challenge have been amazing and informative and so kind. Thank you so much for your hard work guys. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm getting long winded, so I'll leave off here. <3<3 Enjoy!

 

Everything looked the same. Still, driving into Lawrence, Dean couldn’t help thinking that in the ten years he’d been gone—in all the ways that counted—everything had changed. The sky was a grim grey and the wet pavement showed how recently rain had fallen, but there wasn’t any splashing on the windshield right then. His view was clear as he navigated through familiar neighborhoods on autopilot. Everything was green with spring. Fresh new leaves on the trees, bushes, grass that looked healthy.

In the passenger seat, Sam was quiet as could be, eyes trained out his window and shoulders tense. His scent was melancholy; all mossy ozone. Dean’s was probably similar, they tended to smell a little alike especially when they were in the same mood though Sam's was underscored with the unmistakably musky scent of an alpha in contrast to Dean's omega-sweet.

The stillness between them was an uncomfortable by-product of coming back for this. The day they’d put Lawrence behind them and headed to the West Coast when Sam’d gotten accepted into his dream school on a full ride, neither of them thought they’d come back, but here they were. Dad always did get the last say.

He glanced over at Sam again, mouth half-open on a question he never got to ask, ‘cause Sam cut him off with an irritated, “Dude, I’m _fine.”_

So maybe he’d been a little over the top smother-y with his concern for Sam during the drive, but this had to be harder on him. Sam had been the one who’d fought the most with Dad before they left. It was him that Dad had accused of taking Dean away. Which made next to no sense since Dean was the older one, but Dad on a bender wasn’t exactly known for his rational thought process. A little too old school in his thoughts on omegas for Dean’s comfort.

Dean’s admission into The University of Kansas had been a big issue of contention between them at the time. Before Dean’d presented, Dad wouldn’t have batted his eyes twice at Dean’s ambitions, but after … after was why they hadn’t been home in ten years.

After was why when Sam applied to Stanford, Dean’d followed him instead of sticking around under his father’s thumb. The last thing he needed was to end up with even less control over his life. Married to someone because Dad decided he was too old to be unmated. As if being mated was Dean’s sole damn purpose in life. He clenched his jaw, a tick of muscle.

Being pissed at someone who’d wrapped their truck around a tree a couple days ago was useless. Being sad about it was somehow worse, but underneath the leftover righteous anger he felt, there was a smidgen of regret that they’d never get to have any kind of closure. That Dad wasn’t going to get over his pride one day and make things right with them, because that chance was gone now. Maybe along the edges, there was guilt too, 'cause Dean had done this to their family.

Even if he’d been right, and even if his life was infinitely better for his one small act of rebellion, it was his fault. If he’d been an alpha, or if he’d stayed—he pushed down on the acidic feeling that rose in his throat as he turned onto their old street.

There it was. The house they’d grown up in. Dean pulled his reliable Toyota Corolla into the space next to his dad’s Impala. He frowned at the dings and scratches that marred her paint job as he climbed out of his car.

“Baby, what did he do to you?” he ran his hand lovingly over the car’s hood, and softly murmured, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna fix you up and take you home.”

Sam’s amused voice came from just behind him, “You two need a minute?”

“Have some respect, Sammy. Baby’s not that kinda girl.” Dean smirked over his shoulder, and Sam chuckled before his eyes drifted to the house and turned sober.

Dean followed his gaze and grimaced. The once bright white plastic siding of their house was dirty, dilapidated. There was a chunk missing from one of the pillars on the porch and the front steps were sagging. Windows were dusty and full of smudges, and that was just the outside.

Sam looked back at him, lips drawn down, forehead furrowed. “Looks like we got our work cut out for us. Wonder how bad it is inside?”

“Probably pretty bad.” Dean sighed. “He never liked housework.”

The ghost scent of dishwashing liquid and floor cleaner floated to the surface of Dean’s memory. The sound of their broken vacuum cleaner that barely picked up anything, but Dean always made an effort anyway.

He mentally shook himself out of it and started walking up the drive, “Kinda wishin’ we’d brought extra help. Benny and Victor offered to fly out, but I … uh,” Dean’s thoughts took a second to form into words. “I didn’t want ‘em to have to deal with this.”

“I get that. Good friends for offering, though,” Sam said as he carefully climbed the steps. He winced when one of the sagging stairs gave an ominous creak but it held under his weight. Dean skipped that one as he trailed after him. Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean and added, “Cas, um … Cas is coming this morning.”

“Wow. Talk about a blast from the past.” Dean smiled. “Haven’t seen Cas Novak since the two of you were scrawny little seventeen year old nerdlings in graduation gowns. Do you guys still even talk?” he asked, unlocking the door.

“Duh. We’ve actually been on vacation a few times together. He still lives in Lawrence and I didn’t really plan to.…” Sam trailed off, leaving the ‘come back here’ part of his sentence unsaid.

“Huh.”

These days, he and Sam didn’t live quite as in each other’s pockets; Sam and Eileen had moved into their own little townhouse years ago. Both doctors, they pulled in decent enough pay that it was a nice one. He was proud of Sam, and he loved Eileen like a sister. He’d even learned a whole new language for her along with Sam. Learning how to sign was one of the few instances Dean could think of where he’d picked something up faster than Sam. He still liked to gloat about it now and then.

Dean did pretty well for himself, too, as a big shot editor at Sandover Publishing, so it wasn’t like Sam moving out had left him high and dry or anything. His not-quite-penthouse-level condo wasn’t anything to snub your nose at. Most days he was at work more than home, anyway, which at least partially explained why he hadn’t known Cas and Sam were still in touch.

They’d been thick as thieves all through high school, but he’d assumed they’d lost touch sometime in college like Dean had with most of his own friends. A part of Dean was glad he hadn’t, and that Sam would have some support while they were here since Eileen couldn’t make it. He was relieved that she’d decided to stay with her parents while he and Sam came back.

This wasn’t exactly gonna be a picnic—looking around at just the entry way full of trash, and extrapolating what the rest of the house would be like based on that—and at eight and a half months pregnant … this was somewhere he wouldn't want her to spend any amount of time.

With a sigh, he picked his way over the trash, Sam following behind him. “We’re gonna need cleaning supplies. Let’s take a quick look and figure out what exactly we’ll need to do.”

He glanced back at Sam, who nodded. “Sounds good. At the very least we can probably get most of the trash bagged before we need to get ready for the funeral. Maybe get some of the bedding in the laundry if the upstairs isn’t so bad.”

“Yeah. You wanna take upstairs or down here?” Dean asked, nose involuntarily wrinkled. Every mildly germaphobic bone in his body practically screamed at having to go deeper into this unkempt mess. Not to mention how awful it smelled in here. Faint traces of their dad’s once familiar scent mixed with a host of disgusting smells that Dean tried not to focus too closely on identifying.

Sam read him like a book and apparently took pity, “You take the upstairs.”

After a quick tour of their old bedrooms, and one slightly horrific peek into the bathroom and Dad’s room, Dean backtracked and stripped his and Sam’s beds. There was a uniform layer of dust that covered everything in their rooms. Like Dad had just closed the doors and never looked inside again. Something twisted in Dean’s gut, but he kept himself moving.

Sheets and blankets bundled in his arms, he carefully climbed down the stairs, eyes on his feet to make sure he didn’t miss his mark and end up on his ass.

On the second last step, his foot slipped out from under him—he barely had time to gasp out a startled, “Fuck,” before strong hands caught him and stopped him from falling.

His heartbeat picked up when his eyes focused on the face inches from his own. Warm, familiar blue. An intensely masculine scent made up of bergamot, spices and leather with a very faint trace of tobacco filled Dean’s senses and temporarily stunned him into silence. He _definitely_ didn’t remember Cas smelling this good, but then, he didn’t remember him looking so damn alpha either.

 

That sharp, darkly stubbled jaw, high cheekbones and those blue, blue eyes. Shoulders broad in a faded grey t-shirt that was snugly fitted, and once he’d helped Dean get to his feet on the floor, only a couple inches shorter than him. They still hadn’t said anything. Cas was looking at him with an intense scrutiny that Dean should’ve found uncomfortable, but instead he was looking at Cas exactly the same.

 

Dean’s attraction to him was instant, a hot flush that spread down his chest and settled low in his belly. Embarrassment heated Dean’s cheeks as Cas’s nostrils flared—there was little doubt that Cas’d picked up on the sharp burst of arousal in his scent. Dean wet his lips and watched Cas track the motion, hands still warm on Dean’s waist. If it wasn’t for the pile of laundry in his arms, Dean was sure he’d‘ve plastered himself to Cas already. When’d Cas gotten so goddamn _hot?_

They were startled out of their little staring contest when Sam popped around the corner. “Oh. Hey, Cas. Guess you found Dean.”

“Hello, Sam. I—” Cas finally seemed to notice that he was still holding onto Dean, and he let his arms drop to his sides. “Yes.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at the knowing smirk on Sam’s face. “I slipped on the stairs. Cas caught me.” Sam’s smile just grew. “Shut it, Samantha. Did you see if the washer and dryer are useable?”

“Laundry’s piled up about yea high,” Sam held his hand up next to his waist, “but it looks like the machines work. I’ll go throw those in the washer and then we can go grab cleaning stuff.”

“Actually,” Cas spoke up, “I have stuff in my trunk. I stopped on the way over when you texted, Sam.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dean said gruffly.

Cas nonchalantly shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t mind.”

“Well, thanks,” Sam said with one of those dorky dimpled grins. “Saves us some time. Maybe we’ll even get most of this done today.” Dean looked skeptically at him, and Sam changed tack, “Or at least done enough that it’s not so bad for you when I fly home tomorrow.”

Resigned, Dean let out a gusty sigh, “Yeah, okay. Here,” he handed Sam the laundry and glanced at Cas. “C’mon, let's go grab the stuff from your trunk. I hope you brought bleach. We’re gonna need _so_ much bleach.”

By the time he was ready to call it quits for now, Dean had dusted and vacuumed (with the same goddamn broken vacuum) both his and Sam’s room. He’d opened the windows to air them out and then he’d extremely grudgingly donned a pair of thick rubber gloves and tackled the bathroom.

Now it was sparkling and Dean was sweaty with the exertion of scrubbing pretty much every surface clean. Beads of perspiration dripped down from his temples and collected in the hollow of his throat. His black t-shirt was sticking wetly to his back. All in all, he felt pretty gross.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice close behind him made him jump upright from where he was bent over turning off the bathtub faucets.

“Jesus, Cas!” he exclaimed, one hand clutched to his chest like a chick in a B-movie horror flick as his heart raced with sudden adrenaline. Thanks to the cleaners he’d used, he hadn’t even smelled Cas before he’d scared the shit out of him.

Cas’s lips twitched up at one corner, “I brought you this,” he held out a bottle of water.

“Oh. Just lemme wash my hands,” Dean said, pleased. A thorough hand wash later, Dean reached out and took the offered bottle. “Thanks.”

Greedily, Dean rapidly uncapped it and pursed his lips around the mouth, he chugged the water down in big swallows. Around the bottle when he caught Cas watching the bob of his throat with rapt fascination, Dean smirked.

There was a darker pink flush to Cas's cheeks than he’d had when he’d walked into the bathroom, his scent sparked deliciously. Like him, Cas was dishevelled, skin damp with sweat, hair stuck up in a way Dean’s fingers itched to comb through. He looked dangerously gorgeous and all sorts of dirty images flashed through Dean’s mind.

A tiny prick of guilt poked at him. He was going to his dad’s funeral in a few hours and here he was in his house, having less than pure thoughts about Sam’s best friend. There was probably something wrong with him, but the heat in Cas’s eyes when he dragged them up to Dean’s face as he finished … was kinda worth it. Maybe Cas could offer exactly the kind of distraction that Dean needed this weekend. The kind he would’ve been out looking for as soon as Sam left anyway. He licked his lips and watched Cas mirror him. Hot.

“Guys!” Sam called up the stairs.

Right. Dean blinked and focused. “Yeah?”

“Did you get the bathroom done? ‘Cause I think we should shower pretty soon if we’re gonna make it on time.” His footsteps stomped up the stairs, and Cas ducked back out of the room just as Sam reached the top.

“Yeah, I’m done. I call first dibs though!” Dean quickly answered.

“Fine,” Sam replied, as he glanced in the door. “Do I even wanna know what it looked like before?”

Dean’s shudder was answer enough, he figured.

Cas’s gaze lingered on Dean a moment longer and then he turned to Sam, “I’m going to head home to get cleaned up as well. I’ll meet you at Paradise Garden Memorial?”

Sam nodded. “Sounds good, Cas. I’ll walk you out. Gotta grab our bags from Dean's car anyway.”

They both headed for the stairs while Dean stood, kinda dumbfounded in the doorway. “Guess I’ll just wait here, then,” he mumbled to himself.

At the top of the stairs Cas glanced back at him with amusement in his eyes. “I'll see you later, Dean.”

Dean’s cheeks burned, probably red, he hadn’t meant for Cas to catch that. “Uh … yeah. Um, see you.”

The little smile on Cas’s lips widened just before he disappeared from view. Dean tipped his head back, eyes closed, a thrum of want humming under his skin. God, he really hoped Cas would be down for some mutual relieving of tension once Sam headed home. At least the thought gave him something to look forward to.

It didn’t take long for Sam to clomp back up the stairs and toss his duffel bag to him. Dean thanked him and took it into his room. He dropped it on the bed and unzipped it, rifling through until he found a towel. He deliberated over what he was gonna wear this afternoon before he settled on a pair of fitted black jeans and a dark blue denim shirt. Sam would probably be pissed he hadn’t actually packed anything nicer, but Dean didn’t really feel like being stuffed into a monkey suit. This was uncomfortable enough.

After he’d laid out his clothes on the bed, he grabbed his towel along with his travel kit and headed back into the bathroom. He hung up his towel on the door, set his travel kit on the counter next to the sink. Methodically, and half on autopilot, he got out his shampoo and body wash, stuck them on the shelf in the shower.

Tiredly, he turned on the water and let it warm up as he stripped out of his sticky clothing. He left them in a pile by bath tub so that he could step out onto them to dry off. Dad’s bath mat hadn’t been salvageable. He valiantly focused on _not_ visualizing it as he stepped under the hot spray of the shower and tugged the curtain closed. He grimaced at it, and decided he’d grab a new one tomorrow morning. Bleach only did so much.

For a moment he just blocked everything out as he tilted his head back under the water, letting the heat and soothing pressure against his scalp relax him a little. The dull ache in his chest that he’d been pushing down ever since Bobby had phoned them with the news swelled up a little and threatened to choke him. Swallowing hard, he reached for his shampoo, uncapped it and poured a generous amount into the palm of his hand. He set it back down and rubbed his hands together, the peppermint scent of it familiar and comforting.

Unhurried, he massaged it into his hair and let its tingly cooling sensation distract him a little. Maybe his eyes stung a bit, but he tried desperately to ignore that along with the lump in his throat. He rinsed his hair out and washed up with the same brand of old spice body wash he’d been using since the first time he’d needed to buy his own.

Then he stood there under the hot water, and told himself to get it together. He’d known this trip was gonna bring up a lot of shit that he'd buried down deep, but he’d really thought he’d handle it better than he was. Not be at risk of falling completely apart on the first day back. He hated feeling weak like this, like he was proving Dad right.


	2. Chapter 2

The funeral home was just depressing. Dean figured they probably all were, with their overly manicured bushes and meticulously organized too-bright flowers. The scent of odor neutralizer thick in the air to cover up the smell of too much grief packed into small rooms. As if they were trying way too hard to seem like they weren't one of the crappiest places on earth to have to be.

The shiny double glass doors in front of the building loomed ahead. Shoulder to shoulder with Sam, it felt like walking through them was something huge and irreversible. Which didn’t make a lick of sense, because one way or another, Dad was dead. Going inside didn’t make it true … but … it made it real.

His breath caught in his throat as the doors were opened for them by two doormen in black suits. Fancy, his mind supplied borderline hysterically. Why was this so hard? He hadn’t spoken to the man in ten damn years. So why the hell did he feel ripped open and eviscerated? Could everyone tell he was so damn shaken up? He bet anyone in eyeshot could tell. Anyone who could smell right definitely could. They were probably thinking, look at the poor little omega, can’t even keep his feelings under control for five minutes.

Dean had never hated being an omega—in and of itself, he liked it just fine—it was the way some people perceived it that was Dean’s problem. So he shored up his defenses and squared his shoulders, because if there was one thing Dean knew how to do and do it well: it was pretend that he was fine when the world shifted beneath his feet.

The receptionist, a pretty brunette beta who introduced herself as Lisa, led them into the room the gathering would be held at. They’d elected to forgo a ceremony. Neither of them wanted to sit through that, and what would the preacher even say anyway? John Winchester was an alcoholic son of a bitch who died when Mary Winchester did and then kept on walking around until he drove himself into a tree. He was lucky he didn’t take anyone else out with him. Survived by his two boys—that John had stopped caring about a long time ago—he’ll be vaguely … well, not missed … sometimes remembered almost fondly if they block out the crappy years.

Yeah, maybe Dean was a little bitter. A lot bitter, whatever. He stood in the room with Sam, and glanced around as they waited for the few friends they had left in Lawrence to filter in. In the corner there was a bronze urn that Dean was trying real hard not to actively think of as Dad. Seemed a bit morbid.

Cas was the first to arrive, of course he was. As a kid he’d been punctual to a fault. Had he ever been late for anything in his life? He somehow looked even better than he had this morning. That was just cruel. His hair had been tamed, and his snug navy blue pants matched the waistcoat he was wearing over a pale blue button up. Pretty much all of that conspired and made his eyes seem even brighter. Like Dean said, cruel.

“Sam, Dean,” Cas greeted them as he approached.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said voice a little hoarse in a way that sickeningly tangled Dean’s stomach up.

“Hi, Cas,” he echoed dully.

Cas’s eyes flickered between them and he seemed about as lost as Dean felt regarding what was supposed to come next. Apparently Sam had it in the bag though, because he pulled Cas into a hug and said, “Thanks for coming, man.”

“Of course,” Cas replied as his arms wrapped briefly around Sam. “How are you holding up?”

A mild sliver of jealousy wormed through Dean, followed by a quickflash of guilt for being unjustifiably jealous that Sam was getting hugged and he wasn’t. And since when did he need hugs, anyway? Denial or not, Dean craved physical comfort right then.

Eyes shiny and brows pushed together when he pulled back, Sam cleared his throat before he answered, “I’m okay, I guess.”

“It’s alright not to be.” Cas squeezed Sam’s shoulder fondly, and Sam nodded slightly, bottom lip trembling. Sympathetically, Dean’s eyes stung a bit but he blinked it away. Next thing he knew, Cas’s hand was warm on his shoulder, just like it had been on Sam’s. Solid and strong, his rich scent comforting. Support that Dean found himself drawing strength from. “What about you, Dean?”

Like Sam, Dean cleared his throat before he spoke, “I’m fine.”

Cas’s hand slid down Dean’s arm on its way back to his side. His blue eyes sparkled, a little mischievous. “Good. I seem to remember you were always the stronger Winchester.”

Sam let out a mock offended gasp, “He was _bigger_ and _older_ than me, Cas! You know I had no shot at winning that stupid wrestling contest.”

Dean couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Yeah, well, shouldn’t’ve let your big mouth get ahead of your gangly little body.”

Broadly, Sam grinned at him, “I’d ask for a redo, but I remember you kicking Gordon Walker’s ass when you were in highschool and he had like four inches on you.”

Fucking Gordon Walker. Dean rolled his eyes, but a warm burst of pride swelled in his chest. “What can I say, I’m just that awesome.”

There was a little smile on Cas’s face. “You always have been.”

Heat flooded Dean’s face and he choked out a laugh while Sam grimaced, “Sure have—”

“Don’t feed into his ego, dude!”

“C’mon, Sammy, even Cas knows I’m the cool one.” Dean grinned childishly at his brother.

An affectionately gruff voice from the entryway caught their attention, “Cool, huh? That what they’re callin’ being a dumbass these days?”

Dean’s grin broadened as he glanced over at Bobby Singer, best father-figure stand-in a couple of sorta pathetic kids could have. “Nah. We just call that being Sam.”

“Dude,” Sam protested, eyes narrowed at him. “Get some new material.”

Bobby closed the distance between them and pulled him and Sam into a double hug that Dean maybe let himself actually enjoy. Bobby smelled like summer days and engine grease, and Dean inhaled deeply, heartened. It wasn’t like they hugged often—this was practically unheard of—but he bet it was how people felt when their dad’s hugged them. Another little prick of guilt to add to Dean’s tally. Bobby stepped back but kept his hand on each of their shoulders. “How you boys handlin’ this?”

Dean grimaced involuntarily and Bobby was only the second person to ask him that. Thankfully Cas cut in.

“I’ve been informed that they’re ‘Okay’ and ‘Fine’ for what it’s worth,” he said helpfully.

“Yeah, we’re that,” Dean agreed with a smile at Bobby’s long suffering sigh.

“You’re somethin’ alright.” Bobby muttered, but his eyes were warm.

The rest of the gathering passed easier after that. A few of their old friends showed up and Sam and Cas had migrated over to one corner with a group of their high school buddies while Dean mingled with people here and there.

Though everyone asked how they were doing no one really had much to say about their dad. Dean had expected that, but it still felt kind of weird and a little sad. It made him realize how isolated his dad was. He didn't have much time to dwell on that thought before Ellen Harvelle wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He was pretty sure he was filling his yearly quota in a single day. That was a little unsettling.

“Missed you 'round here, kid. How’ve you been?” she asked as she pulled away and cupped his cheek.

“Aside from all this,” he gestured vaguely, “I've been alright, I guess. What about you? Still running the only bar in town that wouldn't take my fake ID?”

She grinned at his lopsided smile. “Of course. Who else is gonna keep the dr-” her face blanched a little and she winced.

“It's okay, Ellen,” Dean gently said.

Her eyes went a little glassy and she clenched her jaw as she crossed her arms over her chest. “It's not. If he'd've been at my bar that night, I'd've taken his damn fool keys and made him take a cab.” She blew out a frustrated sigh and rubbed at her face, the ozone scent of her distress thick. “He didn't do right by you boys, we all know that … but he spent enough time on my barstool soaked in regret for me to know he wished he could change things.”

Pain blossomed in Dean's chest, an ache that flared frosty and cavernous. Thickly, he swallowed and shook his head a little, couldn't quite believe it. Dad was stubborn. He didn't change his mind and he didn't make apologies. If he'd been sorry, it was probably for himself. Dean clung to that like a life raft.

“It's okay if you don't believe it right now,” she told him sympathetically. “Can't tell you how many times I tried to talk him into just tellin’ the two of you he was sorry. But.…”

Roughly, Dean mumbled, “He was stubborn.”

The smile Ellen gave him was watery, “He made a lot of mistakes, Dean. Stuff he said to you … that kinda stuff sticks with you and festers. I hope you know you're a real good kid. Always were.”

_‘You’re supposed to be my good kid. The one who listens and does as you’re told. Hell, your biology oughta make you want to obey. What's so broken in you that you can't do that? You're weak, Dean. Being naïve. Sam can't protect you all the time out there._

_If you take off with him, don't you come back. Not ever. You walk out that door and I'll forget I ever had sons.’_

He'd walked out.

He _wasn't_ good. Never had been. Dean’d always been too selfish for that. But he appreciated the sentiment. “Thanks, Ellen.”

People trickled out until only a few remained, food that’d been laid out picked over, and normally Dean would’ve been all over a buffet, but he couldn’t find it in himself to eat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bobby stop in front of the urn up on an ornate cherry wood podium. He ran a hand over the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and wasn’t that a rare sight—Bobby in a suit.

His brows were drawn together in contemplation and he seemed conflicted. Dean wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but it wasn’t really his business. Dad and Bobby had been friends for a long time. They’d had a falling out years before Dean and Sam had taken off, for all Dean knew, though, they’d mended fences in the time he’d been gone. After a couple minutes, Bobby’s lips pressed into a firm line and he squared up his shoulders like he’d made a decision. He turned and Dean looked away, didn’t wanna get caught prying.

“Hey,” Sam said, suddenly back beside Dean. “Looks like it’s clearing out, so we’ll be able to go soon.”

“Yeah.”

Bobby joined them and cleared his throat. “There’s … I got something I gotta give you. I thought long and hard about whether it’d do more harm ‘n good … and I still ain’t sure, but it’s not my place to keep it from you. Your dad was a lot of things, I ain’t about to make excuses for the shit he pulled.” Dean’s stomach twisted, and his throat itched at the shine in Bobby’s eyes, at the sorrow that flared up in his scent. Bobby reached into his inner pocket and pulled out two dirty envelopes. Was that blood?

“Bobby, what—” Sam’s eyebrows raised in confusion.

“They’re from your dad. He … uh,” Bobby let out a soft sigh. “He had ‘em in his coat that night. Jody Mills gave ‘em to me to hold onto for you boys. Looks like he’d been carrying ‘em for a long time. Pages are worn pretty thin at the creases. I … uh, read what he wrote when I was tryin’ to decide whether you needed to see ‘em or not. I know you’re not my boys, not really, but I didn’t want him doing any more damage. So … be mad if you’re gonna, but I’d do it again.”

A whole slew of confusion emotions rushed through Dean at breakneck speed. Grateful that Bobby cared enough to do that for them—he could hear loud and clear the sentiment behind it, and it choked him up. “I’m not mad,” Dean whispered roughly, but he didn’t reach out and take the letter. His chest felt too tight, like he couldn’t draw in a breath properly and suddenly he couldn’t do this. He shook his head gently as he backed away a few steps and darted out of the room. For all he knew, they called after him, but Dean couldn’t hear it, buzzing in his ears too loud.

He pushed his way through the sliding doors out front before either of the guys manning them had a chance to open them. No clue where he was going, but he couldn’t stay there right now. He ended up around the far side of the building, leaning on the wall. His head was tilted back against the white siding, cold evening air that made him shiver as he gulped in deep gasping breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block everything out as his heart pounded too fast in his chest and bile rose in his throat.

Why was he being such a goddamn wuss about this? It was a letter for fuck’s sake. He covered his mouth with his palm because there was a sob on the precipice of breaking free and there was no damn way he was gonna let himself cry—not here. Eventually, the feeling faded enough that he let go of his face in favor of wrapping his arms around his waist.

He blinked hard a few times and let his vision focus on the deep blue of the sky, cut through with the white strip of a jet trail. The sun was rapidly fading in the west, dimming everything, and he’d always loved this time of day. He watched a murmuration of starlings twist and coil stunningly through the sky before they settled into the treeline behind the building, and tried to catch his breath—slow his still frantically beating heart.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice, low with relief to his left. “There you are.”

He flicked his gaze toward Cas and noticed the concern on his face as he moved closer. “Here I am,” he agreed, his voice barely even broke.

Just shy of him, Cas stopped. Close enough that Dean could reach out and touch, if he wanted. Sort of hysterically, he considered just how badly he wanted to touch. His hands curled into fists. Cas smelled like alpha, like comfort, and Dean’s body responded all too easily. He wanted to bury his face in Cas’s neck and smell him up close, wanted Cas to close the space between them and make him forget all of this.

“Are you—” Cas didn’t get the chance to finish his question, Dean didn’t have an answer for it anyway.

Desperately, Dean bunched a hand in the front of Cas’s shirt and yanked him closer. He tilted his head down and before he second guessed himself, he pressed his lips to Cas’s, hard. Dry at first until Cas parted his lips on a hushed growl and surged forward. His hand clutched at the hair on top of Dean’s head at exactly the same time as he sucked Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth.

Sexy as hell, and Dean’s thoughts instantly focused on the slide of Cas’s tongue as he slickly slid it past Dean’s lips. Cas kissed him deep and filthy—exactly what Dean wanted. Both of Dean’s hands clenched in Cas’s shirt, afraid that if he let go Cas would pull away. Pinned between Cas and the wall was exactly where Dean wanted to be right then. The hard pressure of Cas all pushed up against him, and God, Cas was good at this. He sucked at Dean's tongue, nipped his bottom lip just hard enough to jolt pleasure straight to Dean's rapidly filling cock.

His head spun with desire, with need. A breathy little whine escaped his throat, and he felt himself starting to slick. Embarrassment and arousal burned Dean's cheeks, shot his temperature up. Instantly, Cas reacted to the scent, grinding forward against Dean. The friction of Cas’s hip against his cock, the feel of Cas hard against his thigh, sparked a rush pleasure; made him moan into Cas’s mouth. In a frantic attempt to get even closer Dean hitched his leg up around Cas’s waist. The smooth glide of Cas’s hand under his thigh like fire.

Just as fast as it started, it was over. Cas stepped back like he’d been scalded, and he guiltily glanced to his left. Dean’s brain cells kicked in with just enough time to hear Sam calling his name around the corner and register that Cas’d heard him the first time Sam'd shouted for him. Shit.

“Yeah!” he yelled back, forcing his voice to sound normal. “Gimme a minute! I’m fine!”

The last thing he needed right then was for Sam to catch him practically dry fucking his best friend back here. He straightened his hair and did his best to adjust himself in his pants while Cas attempted to smooth out the wrinkles Dean had left in his shirt. There wasn't much they could do about the way they smelled. Sam was definitely gonna notice that. The air between them was stilted, tense.

Finally, Cas looked up, blue eyes dark in the scant light underneath his long black lashes. “I … I’m sorry. You’re clearly upset and I shouldn’t have—I don’t want to take advantage of that.”

Dean’s lips tugged up in a smirk that drew Cas's gaze, “Dude, I kissed you. I should be apologizing.”

Cas offered him a tentative smile, eyes crinkled in the corners, “I obviously didn’t mind.”

“Neither did I, so how about we shelf the ‘I’m sorry’s?” Dean studied Cas’s face while Cas scrutinized him right back.

“Alright.”

“C’mon, we better get back before Sam decides to come looking.”

They found Sam in the parking lot, leaning against the Corolla’s hood. Dean frowned at his burgundy car and decided that the first thing he was gonna do this week was fix up the Impala. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed her until they’d found her left to rust in the driveway.

Sam carefully didn’t ask how Dean was, or what they'd been doing, though his slightly wrinkled nose said he definitely had an idea. Instead he peered casually at Cas, “Hey, you still okay to help out tomorrow with the column and the steps?”

Curiously, Dean glanced back and forth between them, “I can handle it.”

“I know you _can,”_ Sam said wearily, “but you shouldn’t have to fix it all up by yourself just ‘cause I can’t be here. Besides, Cas knows what he’s doing.”

Cas nodded in agreement, a spark of amusement in his eyes when he added, “I have practical experience working with wood.”

Dean smirked back and him and under his breath he mumbled, “Yeah, I'll bet you do.”

Cas chuckled and Sam grimaced, “Gross, Dean.”

“What?” Dean widened his eyes innocently, not that anyone was buying it. “He looks like he has woodworking experience, Sam. I can't help that. It's just a fact.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed at him, and Dean suppressed a grin. He probably shouldn't be pushing it, since Sam had yet to complain about whatever this thing Dean had going on with Cas was. Maybe he’d get lucky and Sam would just repress this whole awkward moment.

The letters were on the kitchen table in between him and Sam, like an elephant in the room. Glass tumblers in front of both of them that’d already been topped up twice with Johnnie Walker. Dean’s stomach was warm with the alcohol, cheeks on fire. Miserable tension that no amount of drinking themselves stupid was gonna ease.

“We don’t have to read them,” Sam pointed out.

Dean sighed, shoulders sagging. “Yeah we do.”

Sam’s hand ran through his hair, shaky. A physical sign of his nervousness to go along with the sour scent of anxiety permeating the air. He tapped his fingers on the letter addressed to him. “One more drink?”

“Yeah.”

Dean poured and they both drank it down with barely a wince at the bite. Like a bandaid, he tried to tell himself as he reached for his letter. Just open it. His stomach twisted up, and his fingers trembled as he slipped the letter out. He heard Sam doing the same, but he didn’t look up. Yellowed paper, rich dark cramped letters. He licked his dry lips and had to make himself focus to read it.

_Dean,_

_I used to try and think of what I’d say to you if you ever came back. Stopped doing that a couple years ago because I knew you wouldn’t. I told you not to. There’s not a damn day that goes by that I don’t think of you and Sam. Wish I could go back and change things. After your mom—I know it’s a shitty excuse, but it’s all I’ve got. She was gone, and I had to raise you boys the best I could. Didn’t have a damn clue what I was doing and I was too damn proud to ask anyone for help._

_Especially after you presented. Dean, I got no idea what it’s like to be in your shoes, but I know I didn’t make it easy. I just—I was so scared of losing you and Sam that I held on too tight. I was angry way too often and I took it out on you. On both of you. None of that was your fault. I know I made you feel like it was, but it wasn't. You did your best. I know you did, to keep us all together until I pushed you both too far. That’s on me. I don’t want you thinking I blamed you for that._

_If I ever get the guts to mail this, I hope you’ll at least know that you don’t have to carry that with you. I did a crappy job of showing it, but I love you, son. That doesn’t stop just because we haven’t talked in a while. I want you to know that I’m sorry for everything. That I was wrong. You're not weak, Dean. You're so strong and you always were. I was too pig-headed to notice that. You and Sam, you both deserved a better dad. It’s not fair that I’m who you got stuck with._

_Anyway, I just want you to know that you’re always welcome here. This is your home too, if you ever want it back, it’s yours._

_Dad_

It was weird—how Dean could feel so bone deep numb and so absolutely fractured at the same time. His eyes were wet by the time he read those last words, throat aching and mouth a tight line. Sam’s face was wet as Dean poured them each another couple fingers of whisky. He wasn’t in any shape to deal with the writhing mass of regret and pain that was scratching away at him just under the surface of his denial.

Why the hell couldn’t Dad have just mailed that goddamn letter?


	3. Chapter 3

A headache sharply throbbing deep in his skull and a stomach that was attempting a full-scale revolt woke Dean up just after sunrise. He groaned pitifully and threw an arm over his eyes. Sullenly, he wished he'd had the good sense to proactively drink some water and take some Advil last night. His mouth was fuzzy and disgusting. Put mildly; he felt like absolute shit. He flopped his legs over the edge of the bed and gradually pushed himself up to sitting with a grunt.

A few deep steadying breaths through his nose, and he got to his feet. He glanced down at himself to double check that he was decent—boxers and a t-shirt—good enough, then made his way to the bathroom on unsteady feet. After he took a leak, washed his hands and very carefully brushed his teeth, he splashed his face with cold water. The shock of it was enough to clear his head, at least a little. He dried off and wandered slowly downstairs.

In the kitchen he guzzled two glasses of water and four ibuprofen. Overkill? Possibly. Did he give a crap? Nope. He filled up his cup again and pressed the cool glass to his forehead while he considered his options. There were still a few hours left before Sam had to be at the airport. If he could somehow muster the energy to get back up the stairs he could try and pass out again. That was about as appealing as socks and Crocs. He shuddered.

Briefly, he considered toast to settle his stomach, but that’d require too much brainpower. And effort. In the end, he shuffled into the living room and examined the state of the couch through squinted eyes—clean enough. He curled up on his side and let his brain go blank. It didn't take long for sleep to claim him again. Darkness that he escaped gratefully into.

The next time he woke was much less unpleasant. Headache gone, his stomach was still iffy, but the scent of greasy breakfast food was delicious enough to crack his eyes open for. There was a brown paper bag too close to his face for him to focus on.

“Thought that might get you up,” Sam's voice was way, way, way too chipper and amused for someone who'd gone toe to toe with him last night.

He grabbed the bag and rolled up to sitting with a hopeful glance up at Sam, “Coffee?”

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed out the white paper cup on the coffee table. Appreciatively, Dean grunted his thanks, popped the lid off of it, and took a few careful sips. “Time?”

“Got an hour before we gotta go,” he scrutinized Dean dubiously. “I could take a cab though, if you're not up to it.”

As Dean unwrapped the breakfast sandwich he’d found in the bag, he shook his head. “Once I get some grease in me, I'll be right as rain, man.”

Sam shrugged and sat down next to Dean, “If you say so.”

“I do.”

It was blessedly silent while they ate and drank their coffee. The comfortable kind that Dean was used to with Sam. Faint traces of concern clung to Sam's scent, but the overpowering hurt from the night before had mostly dissipated. If he was anything like Dean, the rawness of it had faded to a manageable hollow that he hoped would close up in time. He wasn't over anything, not by a longshot, but … it felt like a start.

“Text with Eileen this morning?” Dean asked between his final sips of coffee.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, she's good. Tired, but good.”

One arm bent back over his shoulder, Dean stretched. His muscles were achy from the jaunt he'd done on the couch. “Still can't believe you're gonna be a parent. I mean, you'll be awesome at it, obviously, but wow.”

“Dude, me too. I dunno, though. I feel ready.” Sam shook his head gently, hair flopping around his face. “Well, as ready as I can be anyway.”

“Hey,” Dean patted him on the shoulder. “You got this, Sam, and you got me to help out too. Hands down, I'm gonna be the coolest uncle.”

Sam grinned. “Obviously,” the tone of his voice so certain that it warmed Dean's chest.

To cover up the mushy smile he was probably sporting, Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “Alright. I'm gonna go shower off the stench of the alcohol seeping out of my pores.”

Sam chuckled. “Been there, done that.”

“Screw you, by the way,” Dean said with a half-hearted glare. “No fair that I'm the only one hungover.”

“Guess I got all the good genes.” Sam smirked and ticked items off with his fingers, “looks, alcohol tolerance, height, did I mention looks?”

“Haha,” Dean muttered sarcastically as he got to his feet. “Tell that to your ninth grade yearbook photo.”

Sam shrugged. “Whatever, I was a late bloomer. Go take your shower before we're late.”

That totally counted as a win. “Fine. I won't be too long.”

In the drop off area of Kansas City International Airport, Dean pulled up to the curb and parked. For a second they just sat there, they were early enough that Sam wasn’t in a rush even if airport security was probably gonna get pissy at them soon. It was pretty busy, cars packed in like sardines.

Sam studied him for a moment, then said, “So … you and Cas seem like you’re hitting it off.”

Dean’s cheeks heated and he rubbed the back of his neck while he looked away, “I guess. He’s … neat.”

Flatly, Sam replied, “Neat?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah, neat. Interesting. Attractive. Whatever.”

After a beat of uncomfortable staring, Sam huffed a sigh and bit his lip. He looked conflicted. “Just be careful, okay? Cas’s never really been into relationships that last longer than a few weeks at most.” Dean’s eyebrows raised at that. Why not? Cas seemed decent enough to have had at least a couple long term relationships, but then, what’d Dean know. “Well … not the kind you’d be interested in, anyway.” Sam’s cheeks flushed a little, and what? “I just don’t wanna see you get hurt if things … aren’t what you’d expect.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. No really, what the hell was that supposed to mean. Dean’s dating history wasn’t exactly full of long term mating-proposal romance-novel stuff either. So what gave?

Just then a security guard started yelling and waving at them through the window, interrupting their conversation. Sam scrambled out of the door and Dean followed suit. “Yeah, yeah!” he yelled at the guard, “We’re goin’. Hold your horses.”

From the back seat, Sam grabbed his bag and then straightened out. “Just … drop by Cas’s store, okay? You’ll figure it out. I gotta go.”

Dean sighed, but he pulled Sam into a one-armed hug. “Fine. Text me when you land, bitch.”

Fondly, Sam mumbled, “I always do, jerk.”

“Later.”

He watched Sam walk into the airport before he navigated his way back into traffic. Old habits die hard. Heading back to the house without Sam was harder than Dean’d expected. The prospect of an empty house full of too many memories and soaked in new layers of regret didn’t exactly fill him with the warm and fuzzies, so he put it off as long as he could.

He stopped at the first diner he came across and got himself a coffee and a slice of pie. He fiddled with his phone and stared out of the window in between bites of what was actually pretty good pecan pie, and sips of acceptable enough coffee. The bustle around him didn’t do much to diminish the way everything felt too silent. He should’ve known that putting it off would only make it that much worse. A final lukewarm mouthful of coffee washed down the last of the pie, and when the waitress brought the bill, he dropped cash on the table to cover it and a generous tip.

His curiosity about what Sam’d meant was still nagging at him. What was he talking about? Whatever the reason that Cas didn’t do long term relationships, Dean could get behind that. It wasn’t like he was gonna be staying in Lawrence indefinitely anyway. So if Sam was worried about Dean getting his heart broken, he shouldn’t have been. He’d just make it clear to Cas that he was fine with a fling. Things didn’t have to get messy. Right?

From the back of his truck, Cas grabbed four of the reusable bags full of groceries. The truck itself had seen better days. Charlie kept telling him it was on its last legs, but she'd been saying that for two years now. So what’d she know, really?

He shifted all of the bags into his left hand, but as he was about to reach for the remaining four, he heard the front door of John Winchester's house open. He turned around and shielded his eyes from the noon sun. On the porch was Dean in a faded, well worn pair of blue jeans, snug enough that Cas's mouth watered. His white t-shirt fit like a glove too. Was Dean actively attempting to kill him? Because it seemed extremely likely considering the smirk on his face.

“Need help with those?” Dean called, and snapped Cas back to the present.

“Uh … no.” He shook his head to emphasize that as he completed the task of reaching into the truck bed and grabbing the remaining bags. “I got this.”

“Show off,” Dean teasingly replied. He stepped out onto the porch and held the door open for Cas.

The bags weren't that heavy. Okay, maybe they were a little bit heavy. It was entirely plausible that his alpha instincts were, in fact, pushing him to show off for Dean, but he didn't have to admit it. “These? They're practically nothing.”

On the last step Cas stumbled and staggered. In a bizarre role reversal of the day before, Dean steadied him. “Uh-huh. Well, just in case you’re showing off: don't bother. Woulda thought yesterday tipped you off. I already like you, Cas.”

A ridiculous mixture of embarrassment at his clumsiness, diluted arousal at his proximity to Dean's sweet-mint blood orange scent, underscored with base notes of patchouli and white wood—fuck, what that smell did to him—and warm pleasure over Dean having confessed to liking him stalled Cas's brain for a moment. Dean just smiled innocently, and took some of the bags.

“C’mon.” Dean nodded his head to indicate that Cas should go ahead.

“Right,” Cas said under his breath, trying to get himself together while he headed inside and into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the kitchen counter and Dean did the same with the ones he’d carried in.

Dean’s green eyes were serious as he waved a hand at the bags, “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He did know. But he’d noticed while he and Sam were cleaning that there wasn’t any food—not edible food anyway—in the house, and the need to stock the pantry and the fridge had itched under his skin until he’d given in on his way over. A primal impulse to care for people hardwired into him. He gave Dean a sheepish smile, “I know.”

For a few seconds Dean studied his face intently, and then his lips curved up. “Thanks, Cas.”

Relieved, Cas let his smile widen. “You're welcome.”

Side by side, they put away the groceries. And if Cas kept sneaking glances at Dean, he didn’t seem to notice. On the rare occasions that Dean actually  _ did _ catch him looking, Cas’s heart stuttered dangerously in his chest at the warmth in Dean’s green eyes.

He tried not to get ahead of himself—but he couldn’t deny the tension that seemed to ratchet up between them as the afternoon wore on. The entire time that they measured the front porch for new lumber, picked up the supplies in Cas’s truck, and got to work outside, they chatted amiably. There was something easy about talking to Dean that Cas experienced with very few people.

They worked well together, and he maybe let himself enjoy that too much. As they traded tools, their fingers and gazes lingered, and something heated gathered in Cas's abdomen that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on them.

When the strain of their labor left them sweat-damp and parched, Dean brought them out water. This time Dean was the one watching him as he swallowed down great gulps of his drink. His gaze was hot on Cas's throat as it worked. Beneath it all, the faint scent of Dean's arousal kickstarted Cas's own.

Just barely, he managed to reign it in as he handed the glass back to Dean and licked a few beads of water from his bottom lip. Dean's eyes tracked the motion, and Cas swallowed back a groan when Dean unconsciously mirrored him. Luckily for his sanity, Dean disappeared back into the house and the brief reprieve in the fresh air gave Cas a moment to collect himself.

By the time Dean returned, he was busy making progress on the reconstruction of the steps. He steadfastly didn't glance up when he felt the weight of Dean's eyes on him, certain that if he did, his resolve to finish this part tonight would crumble. The stairs were unsafe and the last thing he wanted was for Dean to be injured because Cas couldn't control his libido.

It was twilight by the time the last rotting board had been replaced, and Cas was satisfied with their work. He mopped his brow with the back of his hand and let out a slow breath.

“So,” Dean's voice caught his attention, and Cas looked up to find him fidgeting with a screwdriver. “You wanna come in for pizza and beer? As a … uh … a thank you? For everything?”

Cas plucked at the front of his sticky t-shirt. Tempted by the offer, incredibly so, but he definitely needed a shower and a change of clothes before he was fit. As if he read Cas's thoughts—or more likely his body language, Dean added, “You're welcome to use the shower and borrow some clothes. Didn't bring much, but I've got some sweats and a t-shirt that should fit you.”

Dean's nostrils flared and the left corner of his mouth twitched up; he'd definitely scented the little surge of desire that his words had sparked in Cas. The prospect of wearing Dean's clothes, being wrapped up in the smell of him, was almost as heady as the idea of Dean in his. “That … sounds good. Thank you, Dean.”

Easy and bright, Dean smiled at him, “No problem. I'm starving, though, so let's head in. I'll grab you some clothes and call in the order. Got a preference?”

Automatically as he stood, Cas replied, “Meat lovers.”

Dean's eyes crinkled, one hand on his chest, “Be still my heart.”

“I take it you approve?”

“Duh. That was pretty much the only acceptable answer.” Dean smirked at him. “If you'd said veggie, I would've had to send you home.”

“Of course,” Cas agreed, as though that was perfectly logical.

A dog barked in the backyard across the street, and they both glanced over Cas's shoulder, momentarily distracted before they locked eyes again.

“Mhmm. Good thing you passed with flying colors,” Dean said in a tone that could only be described as flirty. The slow once-over he gave Cas also added to the effect. Cas's mouth went dry.

“Good thing,” he echoed, voice alpha-low. He watched Dean's eyes darken in reaction before he blinked and led Cas inside.

Upstairs, Dean handed him a towel, and quickly fetched him a change of clothes. He passed them to Cas. “I'll call in the pizza. And … uh, when you're done I'll grab a quick shower too. I'm pretty rank.”

“You smell good to me,” Cas said without thinking. Dean's cheeks flushed adorably pink as he chuckled, and Cas's own heated at his admission.

Looking a little flustered, Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, that makes one of us who thinks so.” He recovered enough to offer a cocky wink that was far too cute. “I'm gonna go call in our order.”

Dean sent him another smile before he backed up a few steps and finally turned around to walk down the hall. God, his ass looked perfect in those jeans. Before Dean could catch him staring when he reached the top of the stairs, Cas retreated into the bathroom and closed the door. He leaned his forehead against the white painted wood, and inhaled slowly though his nose.

Everything about Dean was even more attractive than he remembered. He’d thought, when Sam had let him know they were coming back, that Dean couldn’t possibly have been as beautiful as he was in Cas’s memory. Bottle glass green eyes, and freckles over summer tanned skin. Pretty full pink lips that Cas had spent way too much time fantasizing about. And yet—here Dean was, proving him wrong.

Somehow ten years had given Dean’s face a more masculine shape, from the faint dusting of stubble on his jaw, to his shorter, darker hair, softly spiked in the front. He was still taller than Cas, always had been. Unusually broad and big for an omega, but Cas’d always found that appealing. He liked the idea that Dean could hold his own against anyone. The fact that he’d somehow managed to grow even more attractive in the time that he was gone was absolutely unjust.

Every secret teenage fantasy Cas’d ever harbored about his best friend’s older brother was suddenly fresh in his mind. Not only the sexual ones, but the ones where he’d confess his feelings to Dean. Or hold his hand. Or any number of the trite romantic scenarios that he’d indulged in imagining. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t a multitude of pent up sexual thoughts he’d had about Dean—

And he needed to stop those thoughts right there. Already rising to the occasion, and he wasn’t about to jerk off in Dean’s shower. He had more self-control than that. Didn’t he? Yes, yes he did, he decided as he pushed off of the door, and got the shower started. 


	4. Chapter 4

The pizza box was open on the coffee table in front of them, half-empty beer bottles on either side of it. On the TV an action movie that Cas wasn't really paying any attention to flickered in his peripheral. He couldn't help that his lips tugged up when he glanced over and saw Dean shove roughly half a slice of pizza into his mouth in one bite. His cheeks were puffed wide while he chewed.

With his mouth still full, Dean’s eyebrows raised expectantly. “Wha’?”

Oddly charmed, Cas shook his head. “Nothing.”

After a moment spent scrutinizing him, Dean shrugged and grabbed his beer. He took a long pull, familiar smirk that lifted the corners of his lips up around the bottle’s neck showed that he knew exactly how attractive he looked while he did it. Picturing Dean on his knees for him—what else he'd look good with between those perfect pink lips—was practically an involuntary reaction. He grabbed his own beer and chugged the rest of it before he wiped his greasy fingers with a napkin and relaxed back into the couch.

Gradually throughout the movie, they drifted closer and closer to each other until Dean was curled up into his side, head rested on his chest with Cas’s arm curled around his shoulders, and Dean’s settled across his waist. It felt natural, despite the way Cas’s heart picked up speed at first before it slowed back to normal. Dean’s scent was intoxicating. Everything about Dean, in fact, was intoxicating.

He’d known that for so long though, it wasn’t new. Being allowed to touch—that definitely was. His thumb rubbed absently against the bare skin of Dean’s forearm, and goosebumps rose up in his wake. Dean’s scent went heady; spicy and dark. Fire instantly ignited in Cas's veins. His breath stuttered, and he fought to keep himself still, to keep things light and let Dean show him what he wanted.

There was the wet sound of Dean licking his lips, but he didn’t look up at Cas when he spoke, voice just a little rougher than usual, “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Um … I’m gonna be here for a couple weeks, right? And … I was thinking,” he paused as though he was searching for the proper words and Cas’s heart sped up at an alarming rate, “that this thing that’s going on with us—the uh … the attraction or whatever. It doesn’t have to be complicated, right? We could just have some fun while I’m here, if … uh … if you want.…”

Cas’s stomach plummeted heavily. He forced himself to stay calm, kept his scent from souring the air by the thinnest thread of control. Most alphas would probably leap at the chance for a no-strings attached fling with Dean. Hell, Cas couldn’t deny he wanted him, but wanting him wasn’t the problem. He’d wanted Dean Winchester since he was old enough to know what that meant. The problem was that he wanted so much more than Dean was apparently willing to give.

This was going to break him when he had to let Dean go, without a doubt. But, God, he’d been in love with Dean for so long. There was just no chance he could walk away now. Even if it was temporary. Even if he didn’t get Dean’s heart in the bargain—he’d take what he could get. Wasn't something better than nothing?

Smoothly, he slid his hand up Dean’s arm and felt him shiver with it. Green eyes tipped up to meet his just as his hand settled on the back of Dean’s neck. Uncertain, nervous, but dark with desire. “Dean Winchester,” he whispered, voice low, “I’d bet you anything that a man who _wouldn’t_ want you has never existed.”

Pink spread over Dean’s cheekbones, entrancing, gorgeous. Like he was being helplessly drawn in, Dean leaned up closer until their lips were very nearly touching. Until he could feel the heat of Dean’s breath against his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Cas replied on a hiss of air as he sealed their mouths together—a kiss that scorched itself into his memory. Dean’s hands fisted frantically in Cas’s shirt, just like they had the day before and the thought ignited a fresh wave of arousal in him.

Possessively, Cas deepened the kiss with sensual slides of his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Silky curls of their tongues, and then Dean was in his lap, grinding his hips down and forward. Hard where he was pressed up against Cas’s belly. A greedy burst of lust rocked Cas to his core at the proof of his effect on Dean. As if the smell of Dean’s arousal, the slick he’d already begun to leak, wasn’t intense enough. Cas's palms swept over Dean's back, he needed to touch as much of him as he could.

“God, you’re hot in my clothes. So hard to keep my hands off you earlier,” Dean groaned. Pride over Dean’s approval rushed almost dizzyingly through him.

He peeled Dean out of his shirt and let it fall to the floor. A half-second’s glance at Dean's bare chest was enough for a quickflash of lust to sear in his gut before Dean dove back in for another desperate kiss. Cas’s hands sought out his naked skin, skimmed up his back and gripped at his shoulders to force him closer. Friction and Dean, and he felt like a clumsy sixteen year old, too worked up to exercise any kind of control, but he needed this to last. He needed to _find_ some control. If he only got to have this—to have Dean—for a little while? He was going to make it impossible for Dean to forget him when it was over.

“Dean,” Cas growled against his mouth, command in his voice and hands on his hips to still him. “Your room. I want you on your bed. I want you naked, and I want it right now.”

“Fuck,” Dean panted, eyes squeezed tight as his hips rolled forward against Cas’s rock solid grip. “Yeah, God, okay.” Dean’s eyes opened, all heat and want and _so_ green. Lips bitten dark already and it took every ounce of effort he had to guide Dean up off of his lap.

By the time they made it to Dean’s bedroom Dean’d lost his belt, left behind at the top of the stairs. Dean's boots and socks went next just inside of his door after Dean had flicked on the light switch, and any other time, Cas would’ve had Dean stop there. Would’ve slowly savored stripping him down and teasing him until he begged, but right now Cas was already too worked up. He needed to take a moment before he got to put his hands on miles of bare freckled skin that he’d only dreamed of before then.

He bit his bottom lip, watching with singular focus as Dean popped the button on his jeans, and he swore he heard every metallic tooth give on his zipper as Dean’s fingers deftly worked it down.

“Slow,” Cas demanded, hot all over, and Dean’s eyes widened as he licked his lips—a habit Cas had always cursed and loved in equal measure.

He complied though, and a primal alpha part of Cas was triumphant about it. Slowly, Dean pushed his jeans down over his hips and gave a little wriggle that sent them to his ankles. He stepped out of them and walked backward, closer to his bed. God, how many times had he fantasized about exactly this? Dean doing exactly what Cas wanted him to, Dean looking at him, turned on and waiting for him. _In this exact room._

“I said naked on your bed,” he murmured, a touch of impatience in his tone.

Dean smirked. “Thought you said slow?”

Cas raised a challenging eyebrow. “So slowly take off your underwear, then.”

A fresh rush of Dean's slick made Cas’s mouth water and he stalked closer. Dean’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, flushing down the center, rosy nipples pebbled tight. Dean’s fingers dipped into his waistband and he slowly started to pull his black boxer-briefs down. The base of his wide cock, surrounded by neatly trimmed curls was visible when he stalled with a dirty little grin on his lips. “What about you, Cas? Just gonna keep all of your clothes on?”

The thought was tempting. The power imbalance of it appealed to him, he knew that from experience. Right now though, more than he wanted to dominate Dean, he just wanted to _be_ with him. There would be time to explore the many, many fantasies he’d spent so much time thinking of soon, hopefully.

“No.” He grabbed the hem of his borrowed t-shirt and pulled it off inside out. It hit the floor in front of him and he stepped over it. “Your turn.”

Dean’s eyes dropped to Cas’s sweatpants and his lips formed into a pushed out pout before he decided to play along, tugging his underwear down until his cock bounced free. Boxer-briefs successfully removed, Dean straightened up. His cock pointed up toward his belly, thick and straight, pink-tipped and precome-wet. Fucking perfect. Gorgeous. Cas’s hands itched to touch.

Completely confident in his nudity, Dean smiled cockily, “I know you said on the bed, but,” Dean dropped his chin and dragged his perfect white teeth over his full lower lip, as he walked forward until he was right in front of Cas. He sank down to his knees and looked up at Cas, “I really wanna,” his hands curled in the waistband of Cas's sweatpants.

“Ask me,” Cas demanded huskily before he could stop himself. Pushing his luck, he worried for a millisecond.

And then so beautifully, Dean’s cheeks blushed darker. He wet his lips with his tongue. “Can I suck you off?” Almost like an afterthought he added, “Please, Cas?”

 _Fuck._ Could he be any more perfect? All dark lashes and freckles and naked desire in every line of his body. Softly, Cas raked his hand through Dean’s hair and settled his palm on the base of his neck, “Go ahead.”

Dean’s lips twitched up, pleased, and he set about pulling the sweatpants down and off. The cool air of Dean’s bedroom sent a shiver down Cas’s spine. “Guess I forgot to lend you underwear.”

“I didn’t mind,” Cas reassured him.

One of Dean’s palms curled around the base of Cas's hard cock and held it still while he leaned forward and licked teasingly over the head with the flat of his pink tongue. Cas’s thighs trembled with the effort of remaining still, blood gone hot at the sight of Dean swirling and flicking his tongue around the tip.

“Taste so good, Cas,” Dean sighed. His eyes drifted closed and he sealed his mouth around the dark flushed length of Cas’s cock, sucking it in long slow slides. Wet and warm, and the ring of Dean’s lips tight around him, felt so good that he couldn’t keep his hands still. He ran them through Dean’s hair and down his neck, the breadth of his shoulders. Little soft grunts Cas didn’t even try to stop filled the room.

“Fuck, your mouth. _Dean,”_ he gasped as Dean pushed his tongue firmer along the underside of his cock. “God, you look good like this. Look so … ah, so good on your knees. Pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock.”

Dean groaned, vibrations that rocketed along Cas's nerves. He worked one hand in time with his mouth, while the other kneaded the base of Cas’s cock where his knot would swell, any attempt at teasing soon forgotten.

“Mmm. You like hearing that, don’t you?” There was a note of unchecked admiration in his voice. He cupped Dean’s cheek and brushed his thumb over his cheekbone. Dean’s eyes fluttered open, hazy, glossy, green. Sexy. “Can’t wait to spread you out on your bed, Dean. Taste you. Bet you taste every bit as fucking good as you smell. Been driving me crazy.”

Heat curled in Cas’s gut, in response to what Dean was doing to him and the hot little moans and needy noises Dean was making.

“Want that, Dean?” he asked, voice low and rough with his desire. “Wanna feel my fingers and tongue buried inside you? Sliding in and out until you’re begging for more. Until you come apart for me?”

Panting, Dean finally pulled off and sat back on his heels, lips swollen-red and shiny, “Yeah. Yes. Please, Cas.”

He looked every bit as desperate as Cas felt. “You're so gorgeous,” Cas told him, voice fervent. Dean's eyes dropped and dark pink stained his cheeks again as his breathing hitched. Cas guided him to his feet with hands cupped on his cheeks. “You are, Dean.”

Softly, Cas brushed their lips together, slipped his tongue into Dean's mouth slow and possessive. Dean's hands clung to his biceps, fingertips digging in. “Climb on the bed for me, okay?”

With a shaky breath, Dean nodded. “Okay. How do you want me?”

Was there any way he _didn't?_ Cas didn't voice that though, he kept it to himself, heart beating dangerously fast. “Hmm. On your back for now.”

Dean shivered, anticipation plain as day on his face and in the bead of precome that dripped down his cock. Everything about Dean got Cas hard, but that sexy eagerness in his eyes, in the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the way he not only seemed to naturally obey, but clearly relished it—fuck. Cas was beyond screwed, because he already never wanted this to end.

On the bed, Dean laid back, propped up on his elbows as he watched Cas advance on him. Dean looked debauched. He looked like every dirty sexy omega wet dream Cas’d ever had come true. Legs bent up just a little and spread for him in the hottest invitation. Cas climbed up onto the bed, knees between Dean’s thighs as he bracketed his body. Slow and dragging at first, he pressed his lips to Dean's, then firmer as he deepened the kiss.

Dean moaned into it, hips flexing up to press his cock insistently against Cas’s belly. The hard hot length of it ignited a fresh wave of need in Cas. He rubbed his lips along Dean’s jaw, the scrape of Dean's stubble left them tingling. “Gonna make you feel so good, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean sucked in a quick breath that exploded out of him when Cas fastened his mouth just under Dean’s ear. He sucked at the sensitive skin there, and bit down lightly. Beneath him, Dean arched wildly. “Cas, ah, _fuck.”_

Impatiently, Dean squirmed while Cas worked his way lower, his head was thrown back, eyes squeezed tight. Dean's lips were parted around heaving breaths and carnal gasps of Cas's name. Cas took his time, long moments devoted to teasing each of Dean’s budded pink nipples with sucks and nips and flashes of tongue while he rolled the one not in his mouth between his thumb and forefinger.

“Please, Cas,” Dean panted, “C’mon, touch me. Ah, touch me, Cas.”

Dean was just _trying_ to kill him, that was all, Cas reasoned, cock throbbing with need. He smoothly slid his hand down Dean’s chest, past his belly button and wrapped his fingers around Dean’s cock, slippery with precome and _shit_ if he was that wet there, Cas’s dick ached at the thought of how slick he must be. The honeyed scent of it was a perfect goddamn compliment to Dean’s usual citrusy smell. Like spiced candied oranges. Cas’s mouth watered.

He stroked Dean with a loose grip. Just a tease. His thumb swiped over the head, then rubbed back and forth over the bundle of nerves just beneath it. “Like that?” Cas asked.

Dean's hands fisted in the sheets. “Yeah, God, fuck.”

Cas trailed his mouth along the path his hand had taken. Pausing to suck matching dark marks over Dean's hip bones, the alpha part of his brain growled out satisfaction. Dean trembled under his lips, so sweetly. Cas was close enough now that the smell of Dean, slick and ready for him was a siren call. He dragged his tongue slowly, wetly along the length of Dean's cock, sucked just the head into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it while he continued to loosely pump the shaft.

“Ah … Cas … _Cas,”_ Dean's voice rose in pitch, his hand curling in Cas's hair. “Want you,” he tugged Cas's hair, pulled him off and guided him lower.

Cas's cock gave a heavy twitch. “Hand me a pillow.”

Dean scrambled to comply, and Cas propped it under Dean's hips, tilting him up at a better angle. God, Dean was so beautiful, legs splayed wide. Lightly, Cas ran his palms up his inner thighs and spread them wider. “Hold your legs open for me, Dean.”

Immediately, Dean's hands gripped just above the bends of his own knees, holding himself wide open for Cas, fucking gorgeous. Desire to please Dean, satisfy him, heightened Cas's awareness. He dug his fingers into the firm flesh of Dean's ass, thumbs dipping into the crease and revealing Dean's pretty pink hole dripping slick for him. “Fuck, baby,” Cas groaned, “you're so wet for me already. Should we see how much wetter I can get you?”

“Please, Cas. Fuck, please?” Dean begged, voice raw with want.

“Yeah,” he replied lowly as he settled himself on his chest between Dean's legs, elbows supporting his weight.

He licked slow and broad over Dean's rim, and they both groaned. Dean tasted so much sweeter, impossibly better, than he smelled. Dean’s hand flew down to rake through Cas’s hair. Cas hummed as he pressed his face in closer, lips sucking gently at Dean's hole before he flicked his tongue against it in gradually deepening passes.

Dean’s soft needy whimpers and desperate groans echoed in his ears as he wriggled his tongue inside and tasted him straight from the source. His mind went fuzzy with pheromones and the sweet slick filling his mouth. Restlessly, Dean’s hips were minutely shifting up into every plunge of Cas’s tongue. His grip on Cas’s hair tight, but not painful.

“God, Cas. Ah,” he panted, pleasure and need in his voice like a physical touch along every one of Cas’s flayed raw nerves. “More—I need—Cas, please.”

So fucking hot. Cas trembled with barely restrained passion. He lapped, and then pressed his tongue inside as deeply as he could. Dean was soaking wet, so ready for him that his slick was leaking down Cas's chin. With a parting kiss to the fluttering pink of Dean’s rim, Cas easily slid two fingers into him. There was barely any resistance and Dean moaned his satisfaction out.

Cas watched his fingers disappearing in and out of Dean’s stretched tight hole, entranced. Finally, he wiped his face off a little on Dean's  inner thigh and shifted up onto his knees. He kept his fingers working inside of Dean, but he couldn’t hold himself back any longer—he wrapped a hand around his own aching cock. Relief zipped along his skin and up his back as he fisted himself. Easily, Cas could've come just like this, but he slowed himself. “Look at you,” he purred, “taking it so good for me. Tight, slick ass feels so good.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open, bright green with lust and instantly focused on Cas. “Fuck me,” he pleaded. “I wanna—ah, mmm. Cas, wanna ride you so bad.”

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Cas clenched his gut hard against the way his knot was suddenly swelling much too fast, and took slow breaths to calm himself. “Do you have a condom?” he asked once he found the words to.

Disappointment flickered across Dean’s face. “Shit.”

He released his grip on himself and leaned up, cupping the side of Dean’s neck and pressing their mouths together in a sensual slide of lips and tongues. Dean sucked hard at Cas’s tongue, like he was savoring the taste of himself there. Reluctantly, Cas pulled back and rested with their foreheads together. “Next time, okay? I’ll pick us up some condoms and I’ll fuck you next time if that’s what you want.”

Dean’s breath was humid against his lips, “Next time.”

Elated at Dean’s reply, Cas’s lips twitched up. “For now, what if you ride my fingers?”

Sinfully sexy, Dean shuddered all over, breath catching in his throat before he pulled Cas into a hard, biting kiss. “Yeah, that sounds—” Cas gently withdrew his fingers and smirked at the way Dean’s eyes went unfocused, “good.”

“Mmm,” Cas agreed, “it does, doesn’t it?”

Dean bit his lip and there was this shy flush that spread down his neck as Cas maneuvered them until Dean was straddling his chest. He let his fingers slip back inside of Dean, burying them as deep as possible. Spellbound, he stared with his lips parted as Dean bounced on three of them. God, he was burning up inside, and Cas couldn’t help but imagine just how good Dean would feel around his cock. Tight and silken and so fucking wet.

With sharp rolls of his hips Dean ground down, head thrown back in pleasure, high pink that stained his cheeks, red lips open on frantic moans. His body was glowing with sweat. “Just like that, Dean. Jesus, you’re so hot, you make me so fucking hard. C’mon, baby.” Cas reached for Dean’s gorgeous straining cock, and jerked him ruthlessly. “Wanna feel you come for me. Wanna feel how hard you squeeze my fingers.”

“Ah … ah … God, Cas, fuck. I’m gonna—” Dean’s back bowed and he bit down hard on his lip. White teeth dug deep into tender reddened flesh as he came; warm splashes that painted Cas’s already too-hot skin. He twitched and shook in Cas’s hands, hissed, _“Cas,”_ in this sexy broken whisper that Cas absolutely knew he’d spend the rest of his life fantasizing about.

After a few moments, Dean rolled off of him, onto his back, and Cas kissed him soft and easy into his afterglow. The slick sound of Cas’s hand on his own cock, however, roused Dean, and he pushed at Cas until he was the one lying flat. Dean wrapped his hand around the base of Cas’s cock where his knot was rapidly swelling.

Cas was already straddling the edge, body taut with pleasure. Just working Dean up had gotten him so turned on, and the feel of Dean’s large hand squeezing tight around his knot while he stroked himself pushed him into overdrive. He surged up and caught Dean’s lips with his, dirty, hard, and deep fucks of their tongues into each other’s mouths.

Every single part of Cas's body, his mind, focused on Dean. Every second of this scorched itself into him, like a brand on his soul. “Dean,” he whispered reverently as he sped his pace, “Dean, fuck. You’re so—” he sucked in a ragged breath, “fuck, you’re so perfect. So incredible.”

Dean kissed him harder, kissed him breathless. Heat gathered at the base of Cas’s spine, a tight-hot coil that wound tighter and tighter. He was so—Dean was so—his heart thundered wildly. God, this was _Dean._ Dean’s hand on his cock, and in his hair. Dean’s lips against his, Dean sucking on his bottom lip. Dean’s teeth grazing over his jaw and latching on his neck.

Bright hot sparks of pleasure wracked Cas's body—the heat building inside of him flew outward in blazing pulses as he came, hard. Long, long moments of intense euphoria that greyed out his vision and buzzed in his ears.

When he came back to himself he was murmuring Dean’s name over and over in worship, still shaking with each feeble pulse of his release. For a long time Dean kept his hand locked around Cas, kissing him gently through each crest until he was an over sensitive and bone-deep satisfied mess of come and sweat that melted into the mattress.

He blinked his eyes open, dazed. Dean flashed him a grin and said, “I’m just gonna clean up real quick.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to Cas’s lips and as he crawled out of bed, Cas flung an arm over his eyes and let himself drift. True to his word, Dean didn’t take long at all, he came back with a wet washcloth and a towel.

“Didn’t look like you were planning to move any time soon,” he explained with a wink as he handed them over.

“Mmm. Thank you.”

Once he’d cleaned himself to the best of his abilities, Dean took the towel and cloth back, tossed them into the corner of his room, and promptly curled up with his head on Cas’s chest. Cas smiled as Dean heaved a satisfied sigh and stretched contently, the smell of sex and sated omega heavy in the air. “Fuck that was awesome,” Dean mumbled, cheek warm where it was pressed against Cas’s chest.

 _“You_ were awesome,” Cas replied, instantly annoyed at himself for the adoration in his tone of voice. It was just sex, he tried to tell himself. Dean didn’t want anything more, and Cas needed to reign in his feelings if this was going to work for however long they had.

Dean tilted his head up, and smiled brightly at him. “Shut up, you were too.”

They stayed pressed together, quietly enjoying the satisfaction of their orgasms, and each other’s comforting presence for quite some time. Of course, Cas never did know when to leave well enough alone. Exhaustion pressed in on him, and he yawned. “Do you want me to stay?”

Dean hesitated, and Cas’s heart sank like a lead weight. He forced his emotions back to normal fast enough that he hoped Dean didn’t catch the quick flash of hurt in his scent.

Tone unreadable, Dean finally answered, “You don’t have to. I mean, you have work in the morning right?”

That was true. He shoved his disappointment down deep, his regret that he wouldn’t get to see Dean waking up. “I do.”

“Hmm,” Dean hummed as he sat up. Cas followed his lead and dressed himself in Dean’s now rumpled borrowed clothes.

As Dean pulled on his jeans, he shot Cas a half-smile, eyes crinkled, “Still look good in my clothes.”

Cas’s cheeks heated, and his stupid heart fluttered irrationally in his chest. How was he ever supposed to make it through this in one piece?


	5. Chapter 5

Morning sunlight through the sheer yellowed curtains of his bedroom window woke Dean. He inhaled through his nose and pressed his face further into the pillow that his cheek was smushed against. Cas’s spicy scent still clung to the pillowcase. To the room. Their lingering scents enticingly meshed in a way that made Dean push his hips down into the mattress and rut lazily. His lips tugged down when he realized that if he hadn’t sent Cas home last night, he probably could’ve been mid-round-two right about then.

He flopped onto his back and stared up at the white paint on his ceiling. Sending Cas home had been the right decision, damnit. This wasn’t a real relationship, it wasn’t gonna last—and if he let himself pretend it could, he’d fall for Cas harder and faster than a gale force gust of wind. Cas was a great guy, gorgeous, amazing in bed. There was a lot to like. It wasn’t a stretch for Dean to recognize just how dangerous that could be to his heart.

The night before, when he’d brought up the thing that was going on between them, he hadn’t missed the spike of anxiety in Cas’s scent before he’d rushed to reassure him that he was thinking of a short fling. That unreadable look in Cas’s eyes like he was examining Dean closely to make sure he wasn’t looking for more. Dean blew out a sigh and reached for his phone on the nightstand. He brought up his messages to Sam and sent a new one, _So you said to check out Cas’s store. Where is it?_

Almost immediately Sam texted him back the address, and a question about how he was doing. Dean thanked him for the address and told him that he was fine. It was mostly the truth anyway. He dropped his phone on the bed, and got up.

A quick shower later, he dressed in his last clean pair of boxer-briefs, dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. Down to his last pair of socks too, he noticed as he grabbed them from his bag. After he tugged on his white socks, he gathered his dirty clothes from the floor and made his way downstairs. He dumped the clothing into the washer to be put on later, and headed for the kitchen.

As he poured himself a bowl of the Lucky Charms that Cas had bought for him, he smiled. It was such a small thing for Cas to remember, but it must’ve stuck out from the times he’d slept over with Sam. He ate quickly and glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was still pretty early, but he needed to check out the Impala and see what he was in for as far as getting her fixed up went. Before he headed out, he made a quick trip back upstairs to grab his phone and brush his teeth.

It turned out that despite Dad’s poor upkeep on the exterior of the Impala, he’d at least kept her running, kept her engine clean, and her undercarriage looked to be in good condition too. Like he’d wanted it in working order for the day they came back, Dean thought with a pang in his chest.

There was a body shop in town that Dean hoped could get their hands on the original tuxedo black and fit her in to be repainted before he had to go home. Worst case, he’d drive her as she was and get her painted in California, but he was itching for her to be perfect again. So he drove to the shop, and he lucked out. They told him it’d take a week for the right color to come in, and they booked him in a couple of days before he was scheduled to go home.

Once he was done there, he drove over to the address Sam had given him. The building was a red brick standalone with big front windows on a street full of Mom and Pop type businesses. He pulled down the narrow alley beside the building, following the sign that informed him parking was available in back. It was just a gravel lot with room for a handful of cars, but there was only Cas’s truck in it at the moment, so Dean parked next to it.

He scrubbed a hand over his head. Was it weird to show up at Cas’s work unannounced like this? Should he maybe text him and let him know he was coming? Then again, he was already there, so wouldn’t that be even weirder? He probably should’ve thought of all that _before_ he’d driven there.

The door gave a little creak when he opened it and climbed out. Hopefully Cas wouldn’t mind and Dean wouldn’t have to keep wondering what Sam was being all cryptic about. He made his way around to the front of the building and briefly checked the place out.

A sign that hung above the door proclaimed it ‘Midnight Magic Books’. Huh, so it was a bookstore. He glanced at the windows; bold lettering declared that they carried books, toys, costumes and custom leather. Ooookay, so it was a nerdy book store. There was a sign on the glass door that he noticed when he grabbed the handle, 18+ only. A weird, nerdy, adults only bookstore? He tugged nervously at the hem of the olive green military style jacket he’d thrown over his t-shirt.

All he could see through the windows were staggered bookshelves that obscured the entire back half of the store, but left a counter and cash register on the left wall visible. A woman with short wavy red hair in a white blouse was standing at the register peering curiously at him. Right. He was standing in the doorway like a creeper. Already off to a great start.

With that, he tugged the door open and entered. Huh. Not … quite what he expected. There weren’t any action figures or collectibles or anything, really, that qualified as a toy at first glance. His confusion must’ve showed on his face, because the woman smirked at him.

“The stuff you’re looking for’s probably in the back,” she informed him.

Dean raised his eyebrow, did he look like the kinda guy who was into geeky costume stuff? “Uh.…”

“Dude, don’t be shy,” she raised her hands, palms toward him placatingly, “I’m not gonna judge. Pretty much eighty percent of my job is not to judge.”

“I’m not—” Dean tilted his head a little, what was he gonna say, I’m not a dork? That was probably offensive or something. He wasn’t a total asshole. So he changed tack, “Actually, I’m looking for someone.”

She arched an eyebrow and her smirk widened, “No offense, but you’re not really my type.”

Dean’s cheeks burned and he rushed to his own defense, “I wasn’t—that wasn’t a pick up line. I’m looking for Castiel Novak.”

She chuckled at his expression, and then her eyes widened in recognition which was impossible because he’d never met her before. “Holy shit. You’re Dean Winchester.”

“Um … yes?” He hadn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but he was still a little off-balance.

“And you’re here,” she announced, eyes sparkling with mischief, “to see Cas.”

Dean nodded.

“Do you know what we sell here, Dean?” she asked curiously. “I’m Charlie, by the way.”

That he could answer—he wasn’t an idiot. “Books. And stuff.”

“Mmhmm.” She laughed. “Oh man, this is too good, I can’t.”

Dean’s confusion grew and he shifted uncomfortably. “So, is he here?”

“Who? Cas? Yeah, he’s out back in the crafting room.” She took a deep breath and yelled, “Hey! Cas! I need you out here.”

The sound of a door bursting open in back, and heavy-fast footfalls preceded Cas’s arrival. “Charlie, what’s wr—oh, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide and his mouth went dry when he saw Cas, because Cas was goddamn hot in the tight black pants and crisp white short-sleeve button-up shirt he was wearing. Did he mention the harness? Three black leather straps with silver buckles across his abdomen starting just above his belly button and the last one just shy of his pecs. A strap on each side that crossed all the three belts and up over his shoulders like ridiculously sexy suspenders.

How was Dean’s brain supposed to function when he was looking at that all _on its own?_ Let alone when you brought Cas’s perpetual five o’clock shadow and pink lips and intense blue eyes into the mix. Also. His muscular biceps, because yeah … they were out full force, straining against the sleeves of his shirt. There wasn’t really a way for Dean to recover gracefully from his staring. He blinked and noticed that Cas seemed just as struck silent as him.

Finally, Dean cleared his throat. “Um, hi.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Charlie’s voice broke the tension that was gathering between them when she announced, “Much as I’d _love_ to stay and see how this goes down, really, you have no idea. Dorothy and I have a prenatal appointment at the clinic and she’ll kill me if I’m late.” She grinned. “Be back in half an hour, Cas. Nice to meet ya Dean.”

“You too, Charlie,” he replied politely. She flashed them what even Dean recognized was a Vulcan salute, before she turned and walked out the door.

Suddenly alone, Dean turned to Cas with an overly cocky smile to cover up how nervous he was. “I … um, I was over at the body shop, getting an appointment for Baby, and I figured I would drop in on you. Sam texted me the address.”

Cas smiled back at him, eyes a little tight. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here. He could faintly scent nervousness on Cas. “Oh. And … what do you think of my store?” he gestured around with one hand. “Well, mine and Charlie's,” he elaborated.

Considering, Dean pushed out his lips and looked around again, “It's nice for a nerdy role play store, but where are like, the action figures and board games and stuff?” Cas’s white teeth dug into his bottom lip on a smile, corners of his lips and his shoulders twitching with repressed laughter. Dean faltered, “Plus the … uh, the sign said costumes and custom—”

Great. And now Cas wasn't even bothering to hold back. It took him a minute of laughter to calm down and wipe the tears that'd gathered at the corners of his eyes. “Dean, that's not—this is an _adult_ shop.”

And then like lightbulbs flashing neon, he remembered the eighteen plus sign. Toys meant _sex_ toys, costumes possibly lingerie or maybe sexy role playing stuff, custom leather—Dean's brain stuttered and his dick chubbed up a little even as utter fucking embarrassment at his apparent stupidity curled up in his gut and set fire to his cheeks. He dropped his face into his hands, “Son of a bitch. I'm so fucking dumb.”

Suddenly Cas's hands locked around Dean’s wrists and he tugged them away from his face. “You're not dumb,” Cas said fiercely, and Dean looked up into his narrowed blue eyes, conviction in his voice and on his face. “You didn't have all of the facts. That's not a crime.”

“I guess not,” Dean mumbled, eyes dropping and cheeks still hot as Castiel’s thumbs stroked over the inside of his wrists.

“Dean, look at me,” Cas gently requested, lips twitching up in a tiny smile when Dean did. “Who tutored me in Calculus for free when he was in college and way too cool to be spending two evenings a week with his kid brother’s dorky friend?”

Dean rolled his eyes, warmth wriggling in his stomach, “Anyone would’ve done that, Cas. And it was just—”

“Just proof you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.” Cas raised both eyebrows like he was daring Dean to contradict him.

The way Cas was looking at him right then, so warm and soft, had flutters starting up in Dean’s chest. He forced himself to glance away toward the shelves behind Cas to calm down, “So … wanna show me around?”

Dean’s eyes snapped back to Cas’s when his voice went low and hot, “I could do that, but first,” he brushed his thumb across Dean's bottom lip as he cupped his face, leaned in and pressed his mouth to Dean’s in an easy kiss. Just a flick of his tongue and then he pulled back, “I’ve been dying to do that since you walked in.”

“Me too,” Dean admitted on a slightly shaky breath as he licked his lips and reveled in the way Cas tracked the motion. A little frustrated groan from the back of Cas's throat made Dean smirk.

“Come on, before I end up defiling my store with you,” Cas said as he stepped back, his hand sliding down Dean's arm until it wrapped around his wrist to lead him.

“Hey,” Dean replied as he let himself be dragged, “You started it. Not my fault you taste so damn good.”

Cas glanced over his shoulder at him with barely restrained heat in his dark blue eyes, “Not helping, Dean.”

Dean's smirk blossomed into a grin, “Who said I was helping?”

They skirted the last bookshelf blocking the back and Cas paused, which gave Dean a moment to adjust. A much needed moment. Dean had expected your average adult store, with all the usual sort of cheesy bells and whistles and this … was not that. He examined the left wall, stocked with things like full latex body suits, leather skirts, and dresses of every size, leather harnesses, collars, leashes.

The back wall, where his eyes landed on some kind of PVC pipe frame with silvery latex stretched between it, an oval shape cutout—was that for a face? A big x-shaped wooden cross with straps for, he assumed, arms and legs. There were various paddles, floggers, things Dean didn't even recognize. From the ceiling in the right corner, a sex swing hung.

This was definitely a lot more fetish-y than he'd figured it’d be. Huh.

He turned a curious gaze on Cas, was he into this stuff? He'd always seemed so straight-laced and buttoned up when they were younger. How he'd even managed to co-own a regular old sex shop’d been a mystery to Dean. This was an even bigger mystery. Cas gave his wrist another reassuring thumb stroke and then released him, “Why don’t you take a look around?”

Nervously, Dean bit his lip and nodded. He started with the least intimidating wall: the left one. He brushed his fingers over a pair of black leather pants crafted to look like jeans, and he couldn't help but picture Cas in them. From behind him, Cas quietly said, “I own a pair of those. If you're considering them, I personally enjoy them.”

Lightly Dean shook his head, but he didn't look back at Cas, “Actually, I was picturing them on you.”

Cas made an interested hum, and Dean moved along. He passed the clothing and trailed his finger over a few collars, couldn't quite picture himself wearing one though. In front of several columns of wrist cuffs, he paused. More his style. Thick leather bands, some plain, some painted to look distressed.

The one his eyes were drawn to had a wide dark grey distressed band with lighter grey detailing. A smaller black band of leather ran around the middle, silver hardware holding it in place. At the front, the band was attached on either side to the locking mechanism; a silver star. On the leather beneath, a hollowed out circle of silver flames surrounded the star. Something about it seemed powerful. He liked it.

He brushed his thumb over the lock, the smooth leather, arousal rising up in him as he considered wearing something like that for Cas. A rustling noise behind him reminded Dean that Cas was watching and his cheeks heated as he pulled his fingers away.

He slowly made the rounds, the back wall was … interesting, if a little over Dean's head. Large equipment he wasn't very familiar with and smaller things he was. Very rapidly, he learned that _he_ was definitely into this stuff. Examining the various paddles and floggers had him wet, and Cas had to be able to smell it. He could definitely smell Cas's arousal, and it caused every move he made to feel electrically charged.

The right side of the room was mostly toys; vibrators and dildos, plugs, various restraint systems too. His eyes lingered on a few things here and there, but he was too strung out to actually pick anything, and plus, he wasn't sure if he _could_ pick something with Cas right there. Then again, lust heated up low in his belly when he pictured it, so maybe he could.

Full circle, he made his way back to stand in front of Cas. Close enough to touch. Cas's eyes roamed over his face, took stock of the flush in Dean's cheeks, and by the slight flare of his nostrils, scented Dean's arousal. Still, he somehow held himself back, though every line of his body screamed tension.

“Did you see anything that interested you?” he asked, voice a little too raw to properly affect casual.

Dean'd been hard since shortly after Cas had led him to the back of the store. He stepped further into Cas's space and held his gaze as he pressed against Cas, letting him feel just how turned on he was. “What d’you think?”

Cas’s blue eyes went dark, intense, as he swallowed hard. One of his big hands grabbed Dean's hip while the other gripped the back of his neck with a steady pressure that sent hot shivers through Dean, some base omega instinct in him responding to Cas's possessive display.

Cas pulled him into the hottest fucking kiss of Dean's entire _life._ Teeth dug into his bottom lip before Cas sucked away the sting, the press of his tongue into Dean's mouth dominant and sexy. Cas kissed him like he wanted to devour him, like there was nothing in the world more important than tasting—than _owning_ —every inch of Dean's mouth.

He rolled his hips forward into Dean's. A dirty grind of friction that set off sparks behind Dean's closed eyes. Harshly, Dean panted into Cas's mouth, and fuck, he wanted Cas. Wanted Cas to bend him over right here and fuck him. There had to be condoms here, right?

Unfortunately, Cas seemed to come to his senses and remember they were in public—at his workplace no less—and stepped back.

“Dean.” His eyes were stormy oceans, hungry on Dean's, desperately hot. Dean's chest heaved with ragged breaths, and he watched Cas's do the same—one tiny thread of restraint away from throwing himself at Cas.

“Yeah,” he managed, his own voice low enough that Cas's gaze fell to his lips and his fists clenched at his sides. “I'm good. I can … I should go before I … before we—”

Cas let out a frustrated groan. “That's—I think that's best.”

He retreated toward where the cash register was and Dean followed behind him, still at war with himself. Cas grabbed some papers off the counter and turned to face Dean. “Do you—would you be interested in exploring BDSM while you're here?”

“That what you're into, Cas?” Dean asked, smirk in his voice. “You wanna tie me up and dominate me?”

“It's what I'm into,” Cas admitted easily, “but if it's not what _you're_ into, then I have no interest in doing it with you. Last night was something I'd gladly continue to repeat without any of this. I don't want you to feel that there's anything contingent on your response.”

A little bubble of warmth burst in his chest and Dean smiled, “Why not? Kinda turns me on thinking about you being even more bossy. I … uh … I gotta admit though, I've never really done this. Or thought about it much. Will—” he glanced down at his boots, and then back up into Cas's eyes, “Would you teach me?”

Cas's body visibly tightened, and Dean's smile went lopsided, dirty, as he watched Cas fight the effect of his words. Fuck, he smelled good. “Of course. Do you—I could come over after work and we could try something?” Dean's eyes darted toward the back of the store, instantly curious about what Cas wanted to try. “We'll discuss the specifics before hand, obviously. No surprises tonight, I promise.”

Dean wet his lips and cleared his throat, anticipation simmering in his gut. “Yeah … that … um, that sounds good.”

Apparently satisfied with Dean's answer, Cas held out the papers he had in his hands, “They're pamphlets. They go over different aspects, some are about safety and some are about specific kinks. There's a checklist in there as well. Before I arrive, I want you to read them. Fill out the checklist. If there's anything you don't understand you can text me or just put a question mark next to it. I'll go over the list when I get there.”

Cas paused for a moment to scan Dean's face. “And you can always change your mind, Dean. At any time, before, during, after. We can just stop and go back to how it was. We can just watch television and hang out, or slow things down, whatever you want. Understand?”

Dean nodded, “Got it.”

He was sort of grateful that Cas was giving him an out if he needed it, but Dean was … intrigued. He was borderline—and this wasn't a word he ever thought he'd use in regard to himself—giddy.

The stuff that Cas had sent him home with was pretty damn informative. The intro to BDSM one laid out some rules about consent and safewords, checking in, things like that. It had some brief summaries about what BDSM was. Apparently not that fifty shades of bullshit housewives everywhere were reading. The stuff in this pamphlet was all about trust, mutual pleasure, and enjoyment from all parties involved. Something about that released a little bit of tension in him that Dean hadn't noticed he was carrying.

Next up, he read through an instructional pamphlet on bondage, things like not being left tied up alone for long periods of time, checking blood flow to the extremities. A lot of useful stuff to avoid accidental damage.

He skimmed a couple more how-to’s and finally found the checklist Cas had talked about. It was pretty long. Dean got up off the couch and went to hopefully find a pen in one of the kitchen drawers. Successful, he took it back to the couch with him and got comfortable. There were four columns next to the acts listed: yes, no, maybe, and notes.

Just like Cas had told him, he went through each item and checked off anything appealed to him, even if some of it made his stomach squirm at the idea of admitting that to anyone. He trusted Cas. He also marked off things that were a firm no for him. A few maybes. A couple of times he texted Cas for a clarification, but mostly it was pretty straightforward.

Not long after he finished up, the unmistakable sound of Cas’s truck rumbled to a stop in front of the house. Who knew that the sound of a crappy truck could perk Dean’s dick up like that? Then again, Dean’d been hard on and off since he’d left the store. He was desperate to get Cas’s hands on him.

Before Cas even made it up the drive, Dean was at the door. He didn’t have the patience to wait for Cas to knock, so he opened his door and leaned against the frame. God, Cas was hot in the warm afternoon sunlight—blue eyes clear and bright, still in that sexy as fuck outfit he’d been wearing earlier, the strap of a black leather messenger bag slung across his broad chest. A little smile tugged up the corners of Cas’s lips as he climbed the steps, crinkles at the corners of his eyes showed he was amused that Dean couldn’t wait inside for him.

As soon as Cas was close enough, Dean grabbed onto the straps of his harness, supple leather soft, and pulled him inside. He shut the door behind them and crowded Cas back against it with an urgent kiss. The pressure of Cas’s lips as they gave beneath his so damn perfect. For a flash, Dean had control, and then Cas’s hand gripped the back of his hair, angled him a little, and then he expertly fucked Dean’s mouth with his tongue.

Rapidly, Dean’s temperature soared as the taste and scent of Cas jacked up his arousal. He wanted to get closer to Cas, needed it. So he pressed himself into the hard line of Cas’s body and let him feel just how turned on he was for the second time that day.

Cas’s groan echoed Dean’s. His hand on Dean’s hip tightened bruisingly and Dean wanted more—so much more than this. He tried to pull Cas backwards with him, to lead him inside, but Cas just stubbornly stayed where he was.

“Cas,” Dean whined, dragging his teeth over Cas’s bottom lip.

“Not yet,” Cas whispered back, one last brush of his lips before his hands on Dean’s hips moved him back. Their eyes locked, and Dean could drown in all that blue and black. “First let’s go over your list.”

Dean tried not to pout, he really did. Cas’s low chuckle was a clear indication that he wasn’t exactly successful. “Fine, it’s in the living room,” he said with a lopsided smile as he slid his hand down and laced his fingers with Cas’s.

“Did you read everything?” Cas asked as Dean brought him over to the couch.

Dean nodded and sat down, shifting in a useless attempt to get comfortable. Kinda difficult to pretend like he _wasn’t_ hard as hell and starting to slick. Again. Cas followed him down, close enough that Dean felt the heat of Cas’s leg where it curled up on the couch so that Cas was facing him. “Yeah, did the checklist too,” Dean pointed to the paper on the coffee table. Heat rose in his cheeks as Cas reached out and picked it up.

Cas must’ve heard Dean’s sharp inhale of breath, because his eyes lifted immediately to Dean’s face as he sat back, paper in his left hand. With his right, he cupped Dean’s cheek and reassuringly rubbed his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone. “Is there something you’re nervous about?”

Dean chewed on his lip, eyes dropping to Cas’s chin as he quietly admitted, “Just … there’s stuff in there that … uh, that I never told anyone before.”

Softly, Cas’s hand slipped down to cradle Dean’s jaw and tilted his head up until their eyes met. A shock of serious blue, so beautiful that Dean was left breathless. “You can trust me.”

“I know,” Dean admitted, heart beating a little faster at the honesty in Cas’s voice. “It’s just … embarrassing.”

Cas’s lips pulled up in a gentle smile. “I promise that I’m not going to judge anything in here. Furthermore, I can almost guarantee you that I’ll find it arousing. Because _you_ are arousing.” Cas's scent matched his words, the sexy musky smell of aroused alpha clearly evident.

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, a renewed flush spreading across his cheeks and the back of his neck.

“Can I look?” Cas asked, and Dean bit his lip but he nodded. “Dean, you might as well start using your words now when I ask you a question, because I’ll demand it later.”

Heat surged in Dean’s gut, his voice was a little rough when he replied, “Okay. Yeah, you can look.”

Cas carefully read through the list, asking Dean to clarify a few of his notes, and borrowing Dean’s pen from the coffee table to write in his answers. In the end, Cas smiled at him, and Dean’s stomach flipped over at the warmth in his expression. “You did good, Dean. This is very thorough. Can I keep it? I’ll use it to help guide the scenes I plan for us.”

“I—yeah, sure.” Dean nervously chewed at his thumbnail. “So, um … what were you thinking of for tonight?”

“I thought we could keep things simple tonight. You listed bondage as a yes. I brought bondage tape, would you like to try it?” At Dean’s nod he continued, “I was going to suggest just starting with that, but you had spanking underlined with a little note specifying an interest in trying paddles or floggers, and you’d also underlined being dominated, and dirty talk, along with a few other things.”

Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his head, and looked at his lap, “Those are the things that I’m for sure definitely into … or really want to try … with you.”

“Dean, eyes on me.” Dean looked back up, and Cas smiled at him, “That’s good. I’m glad you added that. Are you okay with those things tonight?”

Anticipation squirmed in Dean’s gut, quickly chased by desire. “Yes, yeah. Definitely.”

Cas studied his face for a moment and then he opened up the flap on his messenger bag. He reached in and withdrew a roll of shiny black tape, and set it on the coffee table. Next he dug out the cuff Dean’d been looking at in the store. Surprise parted Dean’s lips. It was still just as beautiful as he remembered. Faded dark grey leather, scrawling symbols painted onto it, silver lock gleaming.

“I saw you looking at it,” Cas told him, another rush of warmth pulsed in Dean’s chest. “I thought you might like it for when we do this. When you wear it, we’ll be scening, and you’ll be mine. What I mean by that is that you’ll be expected to obey my orders. No touching yourself unless you ask permission and I grant it, and you don’t come without my permission. If you need to stop at any point, you can say your safeword and I’ll stop immediately. Do you want that?”

By the time Cas finished speaking Dean’s mouth was desert dry with want. He had to clear his throat before he spoke. “Yeah, Cas. I want that.”

Relief flashed across Cas’s face and Dean realized he’d been nervous, kinda cute.

“If we’re going to do this,” Cas pulled one of Dean’s hands into his lap, repeating the same soothing stroke of his thumb over the inside of Dean’s wrist as earlier, “I’d like to spend the night. Sometimes the aftermath of BDSM play can be,” his head tilted to the side, “unpleasant. It’s important to me that I be here to make sure you’re okay. Especially at first.”

Dean was sure he’d be fine, but a selfish part of him wanted Cas to stay anyway. “That’s okay with me.”

“Good.” Cas put the list in his bag. “Any questions? Concerns?”

Gently, Dean shook his head. “Nope. I got the basics, and I read all that stuff, so … I’m good to go.”

Cas’s eyes lit up. “Are you?”

Confidently, Dean held out his left wrist. “Yes.”

There was unmistakable lust in Cas’s eyes as he twisted the star to unlock the clasp and wrapped the cuff around Dean’s wrist. Dean felt Cas’s gaze on his face while he watched Cas’s deft fingers twist the locking mechanism closed. Heat prickled beneath Dean's skin, some primal omega part of him that wanted to be claimed given permission to submit. He licked his lips.

“How does it feel?” Cas asked, a low growl of a question—proof that he was every bit as affected as Dean.

“Good,” Dean replied. “It feels good.”

Cas brushed his lips against Dean’s wrist where skin met leather. Just a soft touch, but Dean shivered at it, skin sensitized. “First, I’m going to strip you down. Right here. I’m going to bind your arms together,” Cas informed him as he reached for the tape, “then I’m going to take you up to your room, put you on your bed. Face down, ass up. Presented like the perfect, pretty omega you are for me.”

An involuntary little moan rumbled up from Dean’s chest.

“Mmm. Like that idea, don’t you?” Cas asked, voice dark like liquid sin.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, breathy.

“Yes,” Cas corrected as he guided Dean to stand in front of him. “Yes, sir.”

 _Fuck._ “Yes, sir,” he repeated.

“Good boy,” Cas praised and heat curled in Dean’s gut, a rush of slick he probably oughta be embarrassed over as Cas’s thumbs rubbed little circles into the cut of his hips, just above his pants.

There was barely enough room for him, but Cas stood, right up in Dean’s space. Close enough that his breath was hot on Dean’s lips; they tingled with remembered sensation and he wanted to lean in and chase it, but the rules of the game they were playing kept him still. Somehow made it that much hotter when Cas’s hands slowly slid up under his shirt, rucking it up as they went.

Cas’s fingertips nudged him, and Dean lifted his arms up to let Cas drag his shirt over his head. Seconds later he discarded it on the floor, his hands back on Dean’s bare skin, instantly demanding his attention as one slid down his chest, the other to the small of his back. Lower and lower, the hand on his front drifted past his belt, found the hard outline of his cock beneath his soft jeans. Cas teasingly squeezed him through the material and Dean’s hips rolled into it, desperate for friction.

A breathy little gasp of Cas’s name escaped when Cas tightened his grip, dragging his palm along the length of Dean’s cock a few times. So good that Dean was already biting his lip, quiet moans catching in the back of his throat, eyes half-lidded and focused on Cas’s up close. Softly, once, Cas kissed him, just gentle pressure and then his hand slid back up. He opened Dean’s belt one handed, and fuck that was hot. The hiss of leather against denim as Cas pulled his belt free of his jeans shivered down Dean’s spine.

Slowly, Cas worked Dean's pants open, then shifted Dean back a little. He dropped to his knees in front of Dean and looked up at him with big blue eyes and a sexy dirty smile. Methodically, Cas lifted each of Dean’s feet and took his socks off before he slid his palms up Dean’s shins, his thighs.

Dean held his breath as Cas slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear, and stripped him bare. Goosebumps rose up on Dean’s  skin, the chill of the room combining with anticipation in a shudder of pleasure. Cas was breathing hot and damp, so fucking close to Dean’s cock that each breath felt like a caress. He forced himself not to seek out the heat of Cas’s mouth, though he really, really wanted to, kept still instead.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Dean,” Cas murmured, hands grazing back up Dean’s thighs, curling around his hips, “Such a pretty cock, and, mmm,” he groaned low and Dean trembled with it, “that ass? Can’t wait to get it all pinked up, fuck you while it’s hot and throbbing.”

“God, Cas. Please,” Dean breathed, want making his voice raw. Not like he could help it with Cas kneeling in front of him, fully clothed and so hot, goddamn messenger bag still on for fuck’s sake and his face right _fucking_ there.

Cas leaned closer and kissed Dean’s hip, soft lips warm, wet tongue, and the scrape of his stubble. He stood back up, and his gaze travelled over Dean’s body from his feet all the way back up to his eyes. Dean bit back a whimper, teeth dug into his bottom lip.

“Unless I tell you to keep quiet, I want to hear you, Dean.” Cas’s hand came up and his thumb tugged Dean’s lip free.

Dean’s breath stuttered out of him. “Okay, yeah,” at Cas’s sharp glance he straightened up a little and rushed to add, “yes, sir.”

“Better,” Cas warmly said as he moved around Dean and picked up the tape from the table. “Hold your arms out together in front of you.” Dean did. “The nice thing about bondage tape is that it only sticks to itself.” Cas began to wrap it around Dean’s arms, fastening them together from mid-forearm to just above where his cuff started. “So you don’t have to worry about removing it later.”

As soon as Cas cut the roll off with a pair of safety scissors he’d retrieved from his bag, and smoothed down the last bit of it, a thrill went through Dean. It surprised him a little, just how much trust he placed in Cas, but maybe it shouldn’t have. Even if it’d been a long time since he’d been around Cas before this trip home, there were so many ways that Cas hadn’t changed. He was still dependable, still clearly cared about the people in his life—the kind of person that caretaking came naturally to. They were alike in that way. Usually Dean found it hard to let go of his responsibilities, of his need to be in total control … but there was something unique to Cas that made him want to submit. That made him want to let go.

Cas dropped the roll onto the couch, and let his fingers play over the tape that was binding Dean’s arms together. “Feel okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied, and fuck knows why it made him so hot calling Cas that, but it did.

“Good.” Cas tugged him into a walk and led him up the stairs with a grip around Dean’s wrist.

Up in his room Cas made good on his promise. He dropped his bag by the bed after he tossed a black leather paddle from inside of it onto the blanket. Then he helped Dean climb up on the mattress, arms bent in front of him, forehead pressed to his forearms and his ass in the air, legs spread. He was exposed, dripping wet, and trembling with impatience and longing. He tried not to think too much about how he must look like this, needy and waiting for Cas.

Just below his hairline at the back of his neck, Cas’s hand settled and squeezed gently. Soothing some of the nerves that were fluttering in Dean’s stomach and replacing them with warm reassurance, Dean's muscles relaxed.

"So perfect for me, Dean. You look so good like this, Mmm. You have no idea.” Cas’s hand ran down his back, a fiery trail of heat remaining in its wake. With both of his hands, Cas dug his fingers into Dean’s ass cheeks, massaging them for a moment before he spread them open. “Soaking wet already, aren’t you? Can’t wait to see how slick you get before I even get my fingers in there.”

Dean whimpered. God help him, he whimpered high in his throat—a noise he never made outside of a heat—and Cas was already drawing it out of him. The low, silky-rough sound of Cas’s voice kept getting him hotter and hotter.

His hips rocked back into Cas’s touch. “Cas, please. God, please, sir.”

“Please, what, Dean?” Cas asked.

His stomach swooped excitedly, and he pushed further into Cas’s hands, “Spank me, Cas. Please.…” Dean groaned low in his throat when Cas’s hands left his skin. “Spank me, please, sir.”

“Well,” Cas said, word dragged out and filthy sounding, “since you asked so nicely. We’ll start with my hand, get you all pink and warmed up and then we’ll move on to the paddle. Have you done this before?”

“I—spanking, yes. Not the paddle … but I want to, sir.”

“Okay, Dean. I’ll start off light and we can play by ear how hard we get.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, soft, breathy. “That sounds—yes please, sir.”

The slap of Cas’s palm on Dean’s ass snapped loud in the quiet of the room. The quick sting of it rapidly faded to warmth, a jolt of pleasure that made him gasp. Cas’s palm fell again, this time on the other cheek. Ten more light stinging smacks of his hand scattered over his ass before Dean lost track and just let himself melt into every little jolt. A thrum of warmth that spread across his asscheeks, his face. Leaking so much slick that he felt it on this thighs. His cock was engorged, desperate for touch. Fuck, he loved that feeling.

The next several slaps landed harder, and Dean moaned each time, cock throbbing. Cas’s hand smoothed over his ass in a gentle rub that burned slightly and set off sparks under Dean's skin. His senses narrowed down to the feel of Cas’s rough palm.

“Doing so good, baby,” Cas told him and Dean’s heart raced with the praise, pleasure that spread all through him. “Fuck, your ass looks good pink like this. Can’t wait to see it red.” Cool smooth leather dragged over his heated skin and Dean sighed out his approval.

“Yes, sir,” Dean managed, just above a whisper. He wanted it so goddamn bad.

Cas took his time, tracing over the curve of each cheek and letting Dean’s anticipation ratchet up. The crack of the first blow as it landed stung sharply, and Dean’s body jerked helplessly forward a little. Sensation deeper than Cas’s hand had been but still so damn good. He relaxed back, and another crack followed. Then another and another. Each blow that landed forced Dean’s stomach muscles to tighten, his ass to tense. The heat under his skin rose quickly to a burn.

Every crack of leather forced out grunts that Dean couldn’t hold back. He was lost in sensation, whole body humming. Long seconds—minutes?—passed where Dean’s mind went blissfully blank, pain and pleasure mingling in an intoxicating cocktail that left him breathless.

It took Dean a little while to notice that Cas had stopped, the skin of his ass blazing and achy, and so damn sensitive that Cas’s fingertips lightly trailing over them shocked him, made him gasp. Cas traced random patterns into his skin, trails of fire that Dean arched his back for, that sent a rush of slick dripping down his leg.

“How was that?” Cas asked softly, and Dean shivered.

“Good, Cas. So good.” He still wasn’t quite ready for this feeling to be over. “Cas, please gimme more … please … please, sir?”

“Five more,” Cas indulgently replied, “while I fingerfuck you.”

Dean’s hips arched a little more, and he pushed his ass up in invitation, “God, yes, fuck. Please, sir.”

“So pretty like this, Dean. Take it so good, don't you? You just can't get enough.”

“Never,” Dean confessed in a rush of breath as two of Cas's fingers pushed inside of him. A slow, easy glide all the way in, the stretch of it was perfect and hot, and _fuck._

Cas pumped his fingers a few times, twisting them in and out, back in, and Dean moaned frantically. He rolled his hips back, fucked himself on Cas's talented, long fingers. So close already, heat coiling in his gut and the base of his spine, body quivering with how damn good he felt.

“Cas, ah, now, please,” he begged. “I need it, please, sir.”

A few more thrusts of Cas's fingers passed, and then his hand came down hard on Dean's ass—a rush of pain mingling with the pressure and slide of Cas's fingers inside of him. Dean bit his lip and clamped down to hold off his orgasm. “Fuuuuuccckkk. Yeah … ah, just like that, Cas. Please, sir.”

Another crack, a flash of searing pain radiating outwards. Another, another, another. He was lost in the sensation of it, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and throat scratchy from moaning.

“How are you doing?” Cas asked, fingers over the small of Dean's back spread wide and grounding.

“Good,” Dean breathed, “so damn good. That was awesome, sir.”

Cas chuckled low. “Good to know.” He leaned down and sucked a kiss into Dean's flaming ass cheek. The scrape of his stubble prickled, burned. He bit down just hard enough to make Dean cry out. “You're so beautiful,” he whispered against Dean's skin. His tongue trailed over Dean's heated flesh and flicked around where his fingers were still slowly sliding in and out of Dean. He dipped it in alongside them, and it was so fucking good, Cas licking in deep.

“Mmm,” Cas murmured, and the vibrations travelled right up Dean's spine in a shiver of pleasure. “Love the way you taste. I could spend hours eating you out, but I've been dying to fuck you _all_ damn _night._ The heat coming off your skin? All red and marked up with my handprints, I just can't wait. Can you?”

“No,” Dean honest to God sobbed, “no, I don't—Cas don't make me wait, please. Want you inside me. Want you to fuck me. Please, sir, fuck me.”

“Hmmm,” Cas drew the sound out, like he was deliberating.

Dean begged for all he was worth, stomach squirming with the faint traces of his embarrassment, except instead of making him want to stop, it just turned him on even more. There was a wet spot on the bed, and he could feel the slight tug from a string of precome still attached to the slit of his cock.

“Shhh.” Cas's hand rubbing firmly over his back calmed him, “I'll take care of you, Dean. Just trust me.”

Dean let out a slow breath, little tremors wracking his sweat slick body. “Trust you. Cas, I trust you.”

“Good boy.” There was warmth in his voice again, which Dean filed away, already hopelessly addicted to those two little words and the way Cas said them.

Gently, Cas withdrew his fingers and Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. A few seconds of rustling later, there was the telltale crinkle of a condom wrapper, and then then Cas’s hand ran through the slick on Dean's thigh. The unmistakable wet sound of jerking off followed and Dean moaned Cas's name.

Cas's hand on his hip pushed him up the bed a little, making more space so that he could kneel up behind Dean. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Promise I'll fuck you hard now—but you need to hold on for me. I want you to wait until I come first, then I'll give you permission and you can come all over the sheets for me. Can you do that, Dean?”

Could he? He fucking hoped so, because that sounded hot as fuck. God, it was gonna take every ounce of restraint in his body though. He was already so close to the edge.

Cas's hand slid up his back and curled in the top of Dean's hair, pulling his head back, the muscles of his neck taut. He bracketed Dean's body with his and sucked just under his ear, “You can do it, I have faith.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, “Yeah. Yes, sir, I can do it. Please fuck me. Want it—want you so bad.”

Teasingly, Cas slid his cock along the crease of Dean's ass. He grazed over his hole twice and Dean was hypersensitive, shaky. He rubbed the tip of his dick in circles around Dean's rim until Dean's legs shook with desperation. Then, slowly, so fucking slowly he finally lined up and pushed steadily inside of Dean, blunt pressure filling him in a wet, wet slide. “Cas,” Dean sighed, voice momentarily pausing in the middle as Cas ground forward, pressed all the way in, and still tried to get deeper.

“Fuck, you're so tight, Dean. So hot,” Cas slowly rolled his hips and Dean let out a whine as his cock slid out a bit, and then right back in. “Mmm. I know. God, you feel good.” He pressed a kiss to Dean's back and shifted on his knees a little, both hands moving to hold on hard to Dean's hips.

 _Yes, fuck._ Dean ground his ass back against Cas—needed him to move. “Please, Cas. Fuck me.”

“So desperate for me, aren't you, Dean? Like you were made for this. Made to be so fucking good for me.”

Something warm spread in Dean's chest, but he didn't have time to examine the feeling. Cas suddenly pulled back and snapped his body forward. He used his hands on Dean's hips to pull him back on his dick at the same time. Brutal thrusts that shoved his cock into Dean hard and fast and so fucking good.

Words and pleas poured probably incoherently from Dean's mouth after that. Mostly just a series of _Cas_ and _please_ and _sir_. Cas fucked him perfect and deep, angling his hips just right so that he kept grazing that spot inside of Dean that sent bright pulses of pleasure chasing up his spine. So good that he was burning up with it, each slam of Cas's hips against the red-hot skin of his ass a torturous combination of pain and euphoria.

“God, I'm so close,” Cas groaned, thrusting faster, harder, the sound of his breaths harsh as the swell of his knot started to catch a little more on every thrust, growing larger with each pass.

Fuck, he was so big, was filling Dean up so full already. He was so close too, but he had to wait. Cas’d said so. His eyes squeezed shut as he concentrated on not coming when every bit of him was screaming for release.

“Please, please, please,” he chanted high and breathless. “Fill me up, Cas, pump me full of your come. Wanna feel you come inside me, sir. Oh _fuck.”_

 _“Dean,”_ Cas grunted his name sexy, gravelly, as his knot finally caught and locked them together. He ground forward against Dean and came shuddering into the condom, buried deep inside him.

He was still coming, little twitches of his hips, draped over Dean's back, when he wrapped his hand around Dean's cock and told him, “Come for me, Dean. C’mon, baby, fuck my hand and come.”

All of the pleasure that Dean'd been clamping down on released. Cas’s knot tugged at his rim as Dean rocked on it with tiny jerks of his hips. Heat flooded his every nerve, synapses firing lightspeed fast. His body clenched tight, and he came, Cas whispering praise in his ear as he painted the sheets beneath him white. Shockwaves of euphoric bliss stole Dean's breath and his thoughts for long moments.

Awareness returned to him slowly. He was curled up on his side, out of the wet spot. His arms had been released and his cuff was lying on the pillow near his head. Cas was wrapped around him, bottom arm under Dean's head and his other arm over Dean's chest, palm resting against his heart, knot still faintly pulsing inside of him every so often.

“Back with me?” Cas asked when Dean yawned.

“Mmm,” Dean shifted back a little closer to Cas, then hissed at the scrape of pubic hair over his sensitive skin, and the drag of Cas’s knot. Cas dropped a kiss in his hair. “That was … fuckin’ awesome.”

“I'm glad you thought so. You were amazing, Dean. You're a natural.” Cas sounded awed, and another warm feeling suffused Dean's chest.

His cheeks heated. He didn't say anything back, just laced his fingers with Cas's over his heart and closed his eyes to wait out Cas's knot.

It took awhile, and by the time it finally subsided enough for them to carefully pull apart, they were both starving. So Cas herded Dean into the bathroom for a quick shower where he gently massaged shampoo in his hair. He rinsed it out in between soft, slow kisses that Dean luxuriated in. Once Cas deemed them sufficiently clean, he helped Dean dry off, and then perfunctorily dried himself off.

“You know, you don't gotta baby me,” Dean told him when Cas found his last pair of pajama pants in his duffel and held them out for Dean to step into.

“No,” Cas agreed, “I don't have to.” He smiled up at Dean as he stood, dragging the pants up over Dean’s legs and the swell of his ass as he went. “I _want_ to take care of you.”

Dean's cheeks warmed. A bit of guilt creeping in on the edges of his awareness at letting someone, even Cas, take care of him. He pushed his uneasiness away at the soft concerned look on Cas's face. “Okay.”

Just then, Dean's stomach made its discontent known with a loud gurgle that made them both grin. “C’mon, let's go figure out what to eat.”

They wound up ordering Chinese food and they stuffed themselves before curling up on the couch together. Cas stretched out on his back, Dean laying on top of him, head tucked beneath Cas's chin as they watched crap TV. It felt nice, the way Cas held him. The rumble of Cas's occasional laughter beneath Dean's ear.

Even if guilt kept trying to push its way in. Dean just kept reminding himself that Cas wanted to be there. He wanted to do this. A little part of Dean wondered if he was making a mistake, allowing himself this kind of comfort and companionship. How much harder was it going to be to let Cas go after this?


	6. Chapter 6

The house was still kind of a disaster. Less so than when he and Sam had arrived, but Dad’s stuff was still cluttered all over. The trash was gone and the floors were vacuumed and scrubbed, Dean’d even rented a steam cleaner for the carpets. He’d considered ripping them up and putting down hardwood to up the resale value of the house, but he couldn’t muster the drive, so he’d settled on cleaning them the best he could. The new owners could tear it up if they wanted to.

That morning he’d decided to start packing stuff away. He went out and bought some cardboard boxes for the things he wanted to keep, and some clear plastic bags for things he would to give away to goodwill. He’d just finished up in his old bedroom when his phone chimed with a text from Cas. It was an address, Cas’s place, Dean assumed, and it said there was a surprise waiting for him this afternoon if he was interested.

Considering that he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before—about Cas—it wasn’t really even a question, was it? He replied with, _what time?_

Cas’s answer came quickly and Dean was just pocketing his phone with a smile when another notification came in, this time from Sam, _Call me?_

Fondly, Dean rolled his eyes. Sam’d only left two days ago, and they’d texted on and off since then. There was no way his brother just missed his voice, he could practically smell his concern all the way from California. Instead of replying he just hit call and listened to the phone ring as he sat down on his bed and leaned against the wall.

 _“Hey, man,”_ Sam said cheerfully after he picked up. _“How’s it going?”_

“Not bad,” Dean replied. “Got my room all packed. Yours is up next. Anything in particular you want saved that you didn’t grab already?”

_“Not really. Just donate my books and stuff or any clothes you find lying around.”_

Dean smirked. “Am I gonna find anything weird under your bed?”

Sam laughed. _“Sure. Weird. Says the guy who had a VHS copy of Sweet Princess Asuka Meets The Tentacles under his bed.”_

Dean’s smirk widened. “Hey, first of all, that was a classic, and second of all, you, Sammy, are a little snoop.”

Sam’s chuckle was all little brother glee before he sobered. _“Yeah, well. Anyway, not why I wanted to talk.”_

Suddenly Dean's stomach tangled up with concern. “What's wrong? Is Eileen okay?”

 _“Oh,”_ Sam sounded surprised. _“No, no, nothing's wrong. Nothing like that, anyway. Eileen's just napping. I wanted to talk about you.”_

He'd figured as much earlier. Still, ugh. “What about me?”

_“Did you … uh, check out Cas's store?”_

Dean's cheeks flamed as he vividly recalled dropping by Cas's store and just how much he'd liked what he'd seen. Everything he'd done yesterday.

_“Dean?”_

“What?” He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I checked it out. Picked myself up a really big—”

 _“Dude!”_ Sam hissed and Dean grinned, conversation successfully averted. _“I don't need the details. I just wanted to make sure you're good.”_

“Oh, I'm good alright, Sammy,” Dean said lasciviously.

_“Gross.”_

“If it's gross to—”

 _“Hanging up now Dean!”_ Sam practically shouted. _“Talk later, bye.”_

Satisfaction twitched the corners of Dean's lips up, and he pocketed his phone. If he hurried, he might be able to box up Sam's room before he needed to get himself showered and changed.

At three-thirty he pulled up in front of Cas’s house. From the outside, it looked like any other one storey ranch style house—grey siding combined with lighter grey masonry, white trim and white columns that supported the roof over the front porch. Dean climbed out of his car and walked across the green grass of Cas’s lawn. Beneath the sleeve of his olive green jacket, he fiddled with the cuff he’d already locked onto his wrist.

Three stairs, and two more steps and he was at Cas’s front door, hand poised to knock when Cas swung the door open. “Now who’s eager?” Dean teased.

Cas just gave him a little smile, “Hello, Dean. Come in.”

Dean took off his boots in the entryway, and as soon as he stood back up, Cas helped him peel his jacket off. Left in his socked feet, jeans and a plain black t-shirt, Dean waited to see what Cas wanted him to do. He watched Cas's gaze drop to the cuff on his wrist. His eyes went hungry, predatory, and he ran his fingers possessively over the leather. Dean shivered, anticipation a slow rolling flame in his gut. He was already so goddamn addicted to this.

Cas’s blue eyes lifted to his, and fuck, he was gorgeous and confident, voice commanding, “Go through the living room, down the hall to my bed and put on what I left there for you. Put your clothes back on, and then come meet me at the couch.” Like an afterthought he added, “My room is the last door.”

Dean's breath rushed out in woosh. “Yes, sir.”

Pink satin panties with lace edging the legs, and a cute little bow in the front were laid out on Cas's bed. He flushed, but it was checked off on the list and he wanted to try it. Dean's fingertips brushed over the smooth material and just imagining how it was gonna feel against his dick made his jeans snugger. A rush of embarrassment heightened his arousal and a prickling heat crept down his chest.

Dean quickly shucked his pants, socks, and boxer-briefs, and took his time putting the panties on. Fuck, they were soft and silky, and the head of his cock was already pushing out against the front of them. He definitely liked the way they felt. As he pulled his jeans back on over top, Dean sucked on his bottom lip. He left his underwear folded up on the oversized wingback chair in the corner, along with his socks.

Nervousness squirmed in his stomach as he headed back out barefoot to the living room. From the couch, Cas watched his approach, gaze hot on Dean’s body. Like he could see the pretty pink beneath his blue jeans. Dean hesitated when he got closer, unsure of exactly what he should be doing.

“Come here,” Cas directed, one hand held out for Dean.

Reassuringly, Cas laced their fingers together and pulled Dean onto his lap, then kissed him filthy and carnal, cranking Dean’s arousal even higher with just the skilled press of his lips, his tongue, and soft nips of his teeth. Normally Dean would’ve rested his arms on his lover's shoulders, would’ve been pushing and grinding, seeking more, but right now he let himself focus on what Cas was giving him. Every scrape of teeth, the way Cas sucked at his lips, was so much hotter for it.

After a while, Dean’s mouth was tingling and he was aching hard, letting out desperate little noises that Cas swallowed down. Cas pulled him back by his hair, sharp enough to sting, but Dean liked it. He moaned and arched his back.

“Get on your knees for me, Dean.” Cas didn’t have to ask twice. Dean got down on his knees in front of him, mouth already watering, wanting to be put to use. Cas’s thumb dragged over his bottom lip. “Get my cock out, and then suck it. Put those pretty pink lips to work.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean’s fingers fumbled with Cas’s belt, eager to obey. Somehow he got the belt undone, the button of Cas’s jeans popped and his zipper down. Fuck. Cas wasn’t wearing underwear. Heat surged in Dean’s gut at that realization. Cas’s thick, hard cock jutted up, red around the crown and shiny-wet at the tip, and it was right there.

Wetly, Dean licked at the base of it, sucked a kiss up the underside, tongue tracing the vein there, then laving over the head. The salty-bitter burst of precome that he teased out of Cas's slit made Dean’s cock jerk in his panties. God, he loved this, the musky smell of Cas, the heady taste of him. He dipped his tongue into the slit, sucking the head into his mouth. Cas grabbed onto Dean's hair, and Dean heard Cas's breathing go choppy, rough as he guided Dean to suck him in deeper.

A satisfied moan rumbled up out of Cas’s chest and Dean echoed it as he started sucking in earnest. He slid down all the way until Cas was pushing into his throat and then drew back up to the head. His tongue pressed up against the underside as he let his mouth flood with saliva, making it wet and sloppy.

The pressure of Cas’s hand in his hair set his pace. And fuck, when Cas’s hips started rolling up into it, Dean’s dick ached with how hard he was for Cas. How much he fucking loved it. His own hips shifted, seeking friction where there was none, and finally Cas yanked him back, pulling him off.

“Fuck, Dean. Knew your mouth would be good,” Cas said, strained and sexy as he leaned forward and fucked his tongue into Dean’s mouth, deep and hot and dominating. He pulled Dean’s shirt over his head, and tossed it to the ground.

“Stand up,” Cas ordered him. On shaky knees, Dean did. Efficiently, Cas stripped off Dean’s jeans, left him wearing nothing but panties, pretty and pink, and stained dark in the front with precome. Heat crept over Dean’s cheeks, down his neck and chest.

Slowly, Cas’s hands slid up Dean’s bare thighs, his fingertips brushing over the lace, sliding slowly up to frame Dean’s cock. “You look so pretty, baby. Can’t wait to get my mouth on you. Think pink’s your color, Dean. Goes with the cute way you blush so sweetly for me.”

“Cas,” Dean breathed, cheeks burning, as Cas leaned in and mouthed at his cock through satin. The hot drag of Cas's lips over the outline of Dean’s cock as he wet the silky material even more made Dean shiver. The scent of his own slick filling the air was an erotic thrill that settled low in his belly.

Cas skimmed his teeth along the length of Dean’s shaft, making him tremble and whine low in his throat. Cas’s fingers skated around behind Dean, and tugging his panties to the side, he slid two of his fingers into Dean. He was wet enough that it was an easy stretch and glide that felt _so_ damn good. Soft little moans forced themselves out of Dean’s mouth on panting breaths as Cas thrusted his fingers inside of him, then he crooked them just right and made Dean vibrate with pleasure.

“Cas, Cas, God, fuck, Cas,” Dean gasped, his whole body fevered and sensitive.

For long minutes Cas worked Dean right up to the edge, fucking his fingers into him, and sucking at his cock until Dean was hazy with pleasure and so turned on that he was throbbing. Just before he crested, Cas pulled away and left Dean frantically gasping in air as his eyes squeezed shut and his brain tried desperately to catch up with the sudden lack of stimulation.

His breathing hadn't even calmed when Cas was suddenly behind him, the blazing heat of his body pressed hard against Dean’s back, cock riding the crease of Dean's ass as he bit and sucked at Dean's neck. The scrape of denim that still clung to Cas's hips so damn hot—the scent of alpha arousal all around him made Dean desperate.

“Cas, please. God, fuck me, please, sir.”

Cas hummed against his skin. “Not yet. Get on the couch. Kneel with your arms resting on the back.”

Cool black leather stuck to the heated skin of Dean's shins, his knees, and forearms. Cas's wide, scorching hands dragged Dean’s panties down, shifting him to get one leg free, and then the other. Already, Dean missed the satiny feel of them against him. God, he was so hard, cock leaking almost as much as he was dripping slick. Cas’s hands grabbed hard onto Dean's ass cheeks, vividly reminding Dean of yesterday's spanking and the way pleasure-pain had jolted straight to his core.

“God I love your ass,” Cas murmured behind him, and a flush burned across Dean’s cheeks and down his chest. “Loved how red we got it yesterday. You should’ve seen it, Dean. Got me so hard.”

“Fuck,” Dean whispered on a sigh, “Loved it Cas. Felt so good.”

“Yeah?” Cas asked, voice low and rough, right before he slapped his open palm on Dean’s ass, just hard enough to really sting. “Liked that?”

“Uh-huh,” Dean agreed, pushed his ass out in a silent request, and Cas did it several more times. Quick snaps that warmed Dean’s skin and made him squirm, slick tickling as it slipped down thighs.

“Such a good omega, aren't you, Dean? Always so fucking wet for me. Want you to do something for me, okay, baby?”

Cas's hand cupped the weight of his balls before it slid further forward between Dean's legs. “Yeah, fuck, I can—” Cas's fingers curled around the base of Dean's dick, “Yes, sir, God, anything, Cas.”

“Good boy,” he crooned as he tucked Dean’s hard, precome wet cock down between the edges of the cushions. Leather a cold, smooth contrast to his heated flesh. “I want you to fuck the couch for me.” Dean's stomach clenched as his cheeks burned. “You look so fucking good like this Dean, ass all pink and sexy. Fuck, you make me so hard. I wanna see how good you look when you get off with nothing but those leather cushions against your cock. Can you do that for me?”

Almost involuntarily, Dean's hips rocked down, sliding his cock along the groove of leather. Wet enough that the slide felt so fucking good. “Yeah, fuck, yes, sir, I can—” Dean's words dissolved into a moan as his thighs worked, his ass clenching with effort. Sweat prickled up at his temples, his lower back.

Something hot squirmed in Dean's stomach whenever he thought about what Cas was seeing, sparks that sent more blood rushing to his dick, more slick spilling down his thighs. Every thrust of his hips pushed him closer, higher, and Christ, he didn’t know he’d be so into this, but fuck if he wasn’t getting off on it. On the wet hot sound of Cas jerking off behind him, the squeak of leather and skin. Sweat-damp and shaking with effort, mind a haze of how good it felt, how fucking hot Cas got him, he rocked faster, harder. Every dirty-sexy word of praise that rumbled from Cas's chest lit him up, set his body aflame.

Heat coiled tight in his gut, every thrust ratcheting up the tension in his body until he was so close he could taste his orgasm right there—flames of it licking up his spine. “Cas, please, I'm gonna—fuck—Can I come? Please, sir, God, I need to—”

“Come for me Dean,” Cas said, guttural, and Dean’s body seized up as he let go.

Pleasure slammed into him, bright bursts that exploded outward, trembling heat that buzzed in his fingertips, his toes, as he came. _“Cas,”_ he breathlessly moaned.

Consciousness of his surroundings returned slowly to him, the force of his climax left him shaking, dragging in deep ragged lungfuls of air to catch his breath. Something warm and damp was rubbing over his skin, and Cas's lips were soft as he kissed over his shoulders and neck. Eventually Dean realized Cas was cleaning him up, putting him back together. He guided Dean up to standing just long enough to pull his panties back up, then he kissed him slow and laid him down on the couch.

He picked up a soft faux fur teal throw from the end table on the far side of the couch, and draped it over Dean. Sweetly, Cas bent forward and kissed his forehead. “You did so good, Dean. Such a good boy for me. I'm proud of you, baby. Did exactly what I asked you to.”

His words shivered a surge of warmth through Dean, heated his cooling skin back up. “Thank you, sir.”

Cas smiled crookedly as he straightened up. “I'm going to grab you some water, okay? I'll be right back.”

Dean's eyes dropped to the bulge in Cas's jeans. His brows furrowed. Cas hadn't gotten off. “I can take care of that,” he offered as he waved his hand toward Cas's crotch in indication.

“Not tonight. I'm good. The next time I come, I want it to be while I'm fucking you hard enough to pound my headboard into the wall.”

Dean's lips parted and his dick gave a valiant fucking effort at filling again. The little smirk on Cas's face before he left the room said he knew exactly what kind of effect that had on Dean.

Moments later he was back with a glass of ice cold water, a blue and white striped bendy straw plunked in it. Cas held it for him until he'd drained the whole thing, and then they wound up wrapped in each other, underneath the blanket. Dean on Cas's chest again while Cas ordered pizza and chose a movie on demand.

After the pizza had been delivered, after they'd eaten, Cas brought him to the ensuite bathroom in his bedroom. He filled up his clawfoot tub with hot water and some bath salts that turned the water a deep blue, and once it was full he helped Dean in. The hot water eased the strain of Dean's muscles and the eucalyptus and lavender scent of the salts relaxed him further.

For a while, Dean got to lose himself in someone taking care of him. He didn’t have to feel guilty because it was part of the scene. His cuff was still on his wrist and dangling over the side of the tub as Cas knelt on the bathmat, washing him and whispering soft words of praise into his hair and skin.

Cas let him soak until the water started to cool, and Dean just knew that he probably had a dopey ass smile on his face, but he couldn't find it in himself to give a damn right then. For the first time in a really long time, he just felt good.

Cas's scent was all around Dean when he woke. Spices and leather, that undercurrent of tobacco even more noticeable with his nose buried in Cas's pillow. One thing missing that would've made waking up in Cas's bed perfect—Cas. He rolled onto his back and stretched luxuriously, arms above his head and back arched as he yawned.

His eyes cracked open and he noticed his wrist cuff on the nightstand, a note beside it scrawled in Cas's elegant script. He picked it up and read it; _Had to head in to work, but I left waffles in the fridge for you, and the coffee machine is fairly straightforward. Help yourself. I’ll call you when I'm off to check in, but if you need anything—I mean it, Dean—anything! Call or drop by the store._ _-Cas_

There was a warm feeling in Dean's chest that just kept growing for Cas. Every little thing he did seemed to feed it. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face as he flopped back onto the bed with a groan. He needed to find a way to shut it down. He couldn't let himself get attached like this.

It was pretty clear that Cas preferred short term affairs for a reason. Maybe he got bored, or maybe he just wasn't interested in long term relationships, but either way, when Dean left, Cas was gonna forget about him and move on. Dean needed to find a way to come to terms with that if he wanted to keep all this up. So he told himself that Cas was just doing what he’d do for any sub. That he shouldn't let this mean so much to him. It didn't really work, but at least he tried, right?


	7. Chapter 7

The week and a half since he’d first had Dean come over had easily been the best of Cas’s life. More evenings than not, Dean’d spent the night at his place. Sometimes he arrived with his cuff on and they started right in, sometimes it was in his jacket pocket, and they hung out first. Sometimes they just spent time together. They’d cooked dinner a few times, Dean had grilled them steaks and baked potatoes one night, and Cas had returned the favor with homemade lasagna.

He was so far gone on Dean that it was genuinely depressing. The effect of Dean’s smile on him was proof enough alone. He flashed Cas those straight white teeth, and Cas’s heart sped up, a glow suffused his chest. Every time, like clockwork, and when Dean was submitting to him, when they were playing and he obeyed so perfectly, begged so beautifully, Cas couldn’t help but fall just a little more in love with him. Couldn’t help but want to keep him forever.

Could he really be blamed though, for letting his heart run wild? He hadn’t had this much sex with the same person in … honestly ever. It was probably just his imagination, but he swore sometimes that it was like Dean couldn’t get enough of him either. Like Dean was trying to memorize everything about him before he left. It’d been on the tip of his tongue so many times to ask Dean if he wanted more. Now that the clock was rapidly ticking down on when Dean had to leave, it happened all the more frequently.

Except he couldn’t quite bring himself to risk what they had. He’d wanted this for so long with Dean, and if he pushed, Dean might not respond well. Then there was the fact that Dean was still dealing with the trauma of his father’s death. His emotions were running high, making him vulnerable, and Cas didn’t want to take advantage of that either. So he decided to keep his mouth shut. He’d let Dean take the lead, and when he left, if that was the end of it, Cas would deal with his broken heart then.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Dean asked around a mouthful of burger, and Cas smiled at him reassuringly.

“Nothing important. How’s your burger?”

The bustle of the diner they were in provided a soundtrack of background noise; clinking silverware and the low hum of chatter from the other patrons, quiet classic rock music provided by a flashy jukebox in one corner. They were really going for the retro vibe in here, but Dean had been excited to bring him. They’d been here once before together, a long time ago when Cas had tagged along with him and Sam, but he doubted Dean remembered.

“Good,” he swallowed, “you not gonna eat yours?”

Cas’s lips twitched up. “Angling for seconds already?”

Dean chuckled. “I’m not even half done mine. Nah, I’m not so subtly telling you to eat.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but he picked up his burger and took a bite, brows raised like he was saying,  _ see.  _ Flavor burst across his tongue and he stifled a groan. Dean was right it was good. Judging by the smug look on Dean’s face, he knew it too. Cas chewed and swallowed.

“So, you were talking about work? Editing?” Cas reminded him, and Dean’s eyes crinkled up as he smiled.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I love it. Working with talented authors and helping them polish their manuscripts. It’s actually weird that I haven’t read anything in almost a week and a half.” He winked at Cas. “Someone’s been keeping me busy. Normally I go through books like water.”

“Miss it?” Cas asked as he picked at his fries and dragged them through ketchup.

“Yeah, it’s kinda dorky, but I do.” Dean chewed and swallowed another huge bite of his burger before he continued, “I like my job. Plus I miss my big dumb little brother and his awesome mate.”

Cas nodded, “Eileen’s wonderful. I met her the last time we went to Aruba. Less fun was being their third wheel, but I managed to have a pretty relaxing time in spite of their constant disappearances.”

Dean laughed. “Well, next time I’ll have to come with, that way you’ll have someone to hang out with. Although, we’d probably just get roped into being unofficial babysitters.”

A smile tugged Cas’s lips up, and his heartbeat picked up as he tried not to read into making future plans with Dean. “I wouldn’t mind. They’re going to need a break.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty excited. Sam and Eileen are gonna be great parents. I can’t wait to meet the little guy or girl. Either way, that’s gonna be one spoiled kid if I got anything to do with it.” Dean grinned fondly and finished his burger.

Dean would make a great parent. The thought came unbidden, and Cas quickly focused on finishing his own food.

They chatted a bit more as they picked at their food, about Dean’s family and Cas’s job. Dean clearly remembered enough not to bring up Cas’s family. After they finished eating, they split the bill, though both of them offered to pay, and they left in Dean’s car.

Dean inhaled sharply through his nose. He was completely nude, arms bound together intricately at the wrists and up over his head, attached to one of the wooden slats on Cas’s headboard with a length of silky red rope. His eyes were shut but even if he opened them, he wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway with the black satin blindfold Cas had slipped on him. He shifted his hips a little, and was reminded that his ankles were bound together too. His heart rate kicked up a little, breaths coming quicker as heat surged south.

The room was near silent, warm enough that he was comfortable. For a moment, he just floated, brain fuzzy with arousal, thoughts blank. And then something light, soft tickled slowly up his leg, over his thigh. His breath caught in his throat the closer it go to his cock, and then it bypassed up over his stomach and chest.

“Remember,” Cas said, voice deceptively soft, “No coming until I say so. This might be difficult for you. If you need to stop, just remember all you have to do is say your safeword.”

Instinctively, Dean replied, “Yes, sir.”

The soft thing—some kind of feather, Dean thought, tickled over each nipple, light swirls before it drifted lower, over the softness of his stomach. At the first whisper of it against his cock Dean let out an embarrassing whimper, hips twitching up, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Dean,” Cas reminded him, and he released the grip his teeth had on his lip. “Good boy.”

Up and down the length of his cock, around the head, Cas dragged the feather until Dean was writhing against the mattress, head thrown back. How something so insubstantial could get him so damn mindless with need, Dean didn’t really get, but there he was, crawling out of his skin. The scent of Cas’s arousal mingled with his own, intoxicating and curling fiery in his gut.

Just like that, the feather was gone. Some more noises Dean couldn’t identify, and then there was breath, cool against his nipple. Wait—cool? Cas’s lips parted cold and wet over the budded sensitive skin. Ice brushed against the pebbled tip of Dean’s nipple and he moaned, arching into it as jolts of pain and startled pleasure shot right to his dick, heavy and hard, curved up against his belly. Cas’s tongue pressed the ice cube down, and licked it around until the whole thing had melted. Nothing left but the slowly warming wetness of Cas’s mouth as he sucked and nipped at him.

When he pulled away to repeat the process on the other side, Dean was already trembling, gut already clenching hotly in anticipation, and fuck if it didn’t feel just as good. Cas kissed his way lower, dragging melting ice over Dean’s skin, leaving cold wet trails on his skin that made him shiver.

His ice-cold mouth closed over the head of Dean’s cock, tongue flicking into his slit and Dean gasped at the sensation. So, so, so cold and somehow unexpected. His stomach muscles clenched as Cas sucked him down, slick and suction, the friction of his cold lips sliding up and down Dean’s hot flesh. So fucking different and good that his cock ached. Pleasure drawing ragged whimpers and groans from him, that made him shake and beg for Cas to let him come. Right as the muscles in his legs tensed, Cas pulled off and left him shivering, on the edge of an orgasm that slowly receded from his reach.

“Oh fuck, Cas, please. Fuck, please, sir.”

If Dean thought that begging was the key to getting what he wanted, he was so, so, wrong. Cas obliged him, he did, lips closed around his cock, and fingers slipped down under him, sliding slick and hot inside of him, and the heat that was coiled in Dean’s stomach flared instantly back up to a fever pitch. “Ca—I’m gonna—fuck, Cas, please don’t stop, sir, please.”

Everything stopped again and Dean was left shuddering and whining as his hips shifted against nothing. He was hard and aching, with no sign of relief in sight. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He was desperate to come, desperate to have Cas’s hands back on him.

“Shhh,” Cas soothed, hands gentle as they smoothed up Dean’s sides, goosebumps rising up at his touch. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. I’m going to let you come, Dean, just not yet. A few more times, okay, baby? You can do it. I’m going to take you to the edge a few more times and then I have something special for you. I’ll make you come so much harder than you ever have, so much better. Want that, baby?”

Dean’s lips parted on a moan, and he had to focus hard to whisper, “Yeah, fuck, yes, sir. Want that.”

Cas’s voice was dark and pleased, “Good boy, Dean. You’re being so good.”

A glow spread through Dean’s chest, warming him. He really, really liked it when Cas was proud of him. There wasn’t much time to dwell on it before Cas wrapped his big hand around Dean’s cock and started jerking him off, slow at first, and then faster, rougher. Quick strokes made wet with the precome Dean was leaking all over, and Cas's saliva.

The glide of his palm and swipes of his thumb over the head were perfect, and Dean panted, helpless to do more than just lie there and churn his hips. Just let Cas take him right up to the searing edge, leaving him with his chest heaving and his arms straining his bonds.

Cas cupped his face, soft palm scraping over Dean’s stubble. He kissed him calm—or as calm as Dean could get when his balls were heavy and full, drawn up and desperate to blow his load. Nothing existed for Dean beyond Cas’s lips hot on his and the need that was thrumming under his skin.

Once more with his mouth, and once with nothing but his fingers inside of Dean, Cas brought him to the precipice of his climax, each time stopping before Dean could come. Frustration, and arousal and urgency were rushing through his veins with every rapid fire beat of his heart. He was so hard it hurt, so ready to come that his voice was wrecked, raspy with how fervently he’d been begging Cas for it.

His chest was heaving, his pulse buzzing loud in his ears, and Cas’s voice was unintelligible over the rush of Dean’s own blood. He knew that Cas was doing something, but Dean couldn’t focus long enough to tell exactly what, too strung out. A condom, he realized dazedly, when Cas rolled it over Dean’s cock.

Excitement crackled along his nerves, because a condom meant Cas was going to let him come, right? He just—maybe he didn’t want Dean to make a mess. Cas’s hand was slippery and wet on him, and if Dean concentrated, he could tell that Cas was slicking him up with synthetic slick, but the thread of its scent was gone almost as soon as he picked it up, because Cas’s fingers curled around him were fucking awesome.

He shivered with disappointment, a stuttered whine forced out of him when Cas let go. The bed dipped by his right hip, and then by his left, Cas’s knees bracketing him. His brow furrowed and he wished he could see what Cas was doing.

Cas kissed him intensely, his body just barely touching Dean’s as he leaned over him. “You’ve been so good, such a good boy, Dean.” He felt Cas shift back up on his knees, and his hand curled around the base of Dean’s cock. Hot slick pressure against the tip and Dean’s thought processes ground to a complete halt.

“Cas, what—Are you…?”

“I think you deserve a reward for being so good for me Dean. I’m going to let you fuck me. Gonna slide down around you, and ride you until you come. But first I wanna hear you beg for me. Tell me how badly you want it.”

Dean’s scattered thoughts all converged on exactly what Cas was offering in a frenzy of lust so intense that he felt like he was combusting. He’d never—not with an  _ alpha.  _ Jesus, fuck. A carnal flash of possessiveness and need tore through him.

“So bad, Cas. Fuck, I want it so bad. Please let me fuck you, sir. Fuck, please. Wanna be inside you,” barely pausing for breath Dean kept up a steady string of desperate pleading, “please, I wanna come inside you so fucking bad, Cas. I need it.”

“Okay,” Cas said simply as he lowered himself down, a moment of blazing hot pressure and then his body gave.

Cas was fucking scorching and slick and snug around Dean’s hypersensitive cock, the sensation of it overwhelming and so good that Dean hissed through his teeth, he couldn’t think or talk—just feel the way that Cas slowly rose and fell around him. He sheathed Dean over and over, and this wasn’t gonna take Dean long. There was just no way he could last with Cas clenched tight and rolling his hips, grinding him deep before he rode him hard.

_ “Cas,  _ oh fuck … oh fuck. Please.” His lungs were burning with exertion, stomach muscles tight with the tension of holding himself back. “Cas I need to … fuck …  _ fuck, _ please, sir.”

Cas was groaning out these sexy little noises and there was the slick sound of jerking off, “Yeah, fuck. Come on, Dean. Come for me. Wanna feel you.”

Images flashed behind Dean’s closed eyes, Cas straddling him on his knees, chin tilted up to reveal the sexy line of throat, body sweat slicked. One hand wrapped around his knot while he fucked up into the other, then down onto Dean. God, he could picture just how beautiful and wanton Cas would look if he could see him.

He was so … he was so—Dean’s head pushed back into the pillow beneath his head, his back arched as his chest flooded with fire. Every single muscle he had locked up,  pleasure so intense that he couldn’t breathe for long moments, white noise and a rush of exhilaration that curled his toes. Hard devastating pulses into latex as his cock twitched inside of Cas. Searing wet splashes that spattered over his stomach and chest while Cas ground down harder on his cock, came all over him and just shoved Dean into overdrive. His hips jerked up as best they could to push himself even deeper into Cas.

Then, bonelessly, he melted back into the mattress, body lax while Cas continued to shake and tremble over him. Body twitching with each renewed rush of come, and Dean was covered in it, soaked. Marked. Cas’s lips against his brokenly whispered soft words that Dean couldn’t make out. It didn’t matter, because Cas would take care of him. All Dean needed to do was float.

The next morning Dean woke up in Cas’s bed alone again. No note, but by now he didn’t need one. His stomach cramped and he frowned. Mild nausea washed over him, and he felt … off. He didn’t have time for this. He was leaving in a few days. He couldn’t get sick right now. There was still so much left to do. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.

Whatever, he could push through it. He just needed to get up and going and he’d be fine. Dean took a quick shower and changed into the clean pair of clothes he’d brought with him last night. Dark jeans and his heathered grey t-shirt, a blue, purple, and pink plaid flannel over top.

After a simple breakfast of buttered toast and a black coffee, Dean rinsed his dishes and stuck them in Cas’s dishwasher. There was some stuff he needed to get at the hardware store so that he could pressure wash the siding on the house, maybe landscape the backyard a bit. So he marshalled his rapidly flagging energy and went to the store.

The parking lot wasn’t very busy, so luckily he scored a spot near the door. On the way in, he caught a couple of weird looks, but he shrugged them off. He didn’t look  _ that _ bad. He was barely even sick. Dean grabbed a cart and headed down the aisles, sort of aimlessly wandering until he came across things he needed.

“Hey!” a familiar voice exclaimed behind him, and Dean spun around to find Cas’s friend Charlie walking toward him.

He smiled, “Hey, how’s it going?”

She grinned back at him, “Not too bad. Just picking up some stuff Cas needs.”

“Ahh.” He nodded at his cart. “Grabbing stuff to fix up Dad’s house.”

“Shouldn’t you be, like, resting up?” she asked curiously, head inclining to one side as she peered up at him with concern.

“Uh … no? Why?” Dean frowned, confused.

Charlie raised an eyebrow incredulously, “You’re going into heat, dude.”

He shook his head, “What? No I’m not. I’m not due for another two weeks.”

Both of Charlie’s brows were up now. “Yeah, but you’ve been stressed, right? With your dad and all? Sometimes that can trigger it, and trust me, I smelled you the second I got close.”

Finally Dean took stock of himself. His temperature was definitely elevated, he was achy and there was that little itch at the base of his spine just starting to nag at him. His cheeks flamed when he realized that she was right. “I … shit.”

Charlie’s concern magnified, the scent of alpha composure soothing as she concentrated on his wellbeing. “Do you have the stuff you need to get through it?”

Stuff? Couldn’t he just call Cas and see if he wanted to spend it with him? Like the guy he was already banging was gonna turn down a few days of crazy hot primal heat-sex.

Charlie seemed to read his thoughts like a book though, and crashed him right back down to reality. “Yeah, um … not really my place, but I’ve known Cas a long time, and he sort of has a rule. He never does heat sex. Says omegas get too attached after that and he’s not really interested in leading people on, you know? So I just wanna make sure you have the things you’ll need.” She tilted her head consideringly. “You should let him know what’s up though, ‘cause if there was one person he’d make an exception for, my money’s on you.”

Unfortunately, Dean wasn’t so sure. There was nothing different about him, nothing special that’d make Cas want to break his rule. But he forced a smile and thanked Charlie for her advice. She took the hint to change the subject and walked with him up to the cash register. He really didn’t need an alpha to look after him, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but Charlie’s presence was weirdly calming so he didn't bother pointing out that he was fine on his own.

They said goodbye at Dean’s car, and he headed home. Briefly, on the drive, he considered stopping by Cas’s—or any—store for supplies but he figured he could ride it out alone. Sure, it’d be easier if he was home in his condo with his extensive collection of fake knots, but whatever. He’d make do with his hand. He pretty much deserved it for not planning better, anyway.

The fridge and pantry were stocked, so at least he had that going for him. He’d be fine. Right? The only thing left to do when he got home and curled up in his bed was to text Cas and cancel their plans for that night. He told Cas that he wasn’t feeling well, and then tossed his phone onto the nightstand. Better get a nap in while he could, Dean thought dismally as his chest ached with loneliness. 


	8. Chapter 8

There were a few people in the store, all of whom Castiel knew by name. He was sitting at the cash register while they browsed and he kept a civil look on his face despite the fact that he wasn't feeling particularly social at the moment. He wished Charlie would hurry up. Usually he had at least enough composure to be on cash for a few hours, but today he was impatient. Something was setting off his alpha instincts in the worst way. It didn't exactly help that he couldn't even pinpoint what was bothering him.

When he'd left Dean warm and soft in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets and his scent, he’d practically exuded satisfaction at the sight. Now, on the other hand, every last one of his nerves were being tried, and he really just wanted to retreat to the back room where he could focus on building or crafting something.

Relief rushed through him as he noticed Charlie at the door, short red hair bouncing as she swung into the room. She pulled up short as soon as she scented him, and all right, so maybe it was possible that he wasn’t doing as good of a job as he thought at concealing the way he currently felt.

“What’s your deal?” she asked as she approached.

A growl burst involuntarily from his chest—he could smell Dean on her. Something in his chest flared possessive, a surge of irrational jealousy that simmered in his blood. Completely unfounded, because Charlie might’ve been an alpha as well, but she was also lesbian.  _ Mated, _ on top of that. What the hell was going on with him?

“Dude, what the fuck?” Charlie hissed at him, her brows drawn together, a look of shock on her face.

People were staring, he could feel eyes on them, and he reigned in his reaction the best that he could. Of course, right then, his phone pinged. Currently only set to alert for messages from Dean during business hours, so he dropped his stare from Charlie to his screen on the counter in front of him. “Dean cancelled,” he mumbled out loud as he read it.

“Because he’s in heat, right?” Charlie asked. “Is that what’s got you all—” she waved a hand indicating basically his entire being.

His head cocked,  _ what? _ That made no sense. “If Dean’s in heat why would he cancel? He’d need me.”

“Woah.” Charlie’s brows flew up. “Oh wow, that’s what’s wrong with you. Shit. Really wish I hadn’t told him about your no heat-sex thing when I ran into him at the hardware store right about now. Way to put my foot in my mouth, right?”

Cas’s eyes narrowed, suddenly furious, “You told him _ what?” _

Charlie’s hands went up defensively, “Don’t get pissy at me because you have a policy that I noticed! How the hell was I supposed to know that he’s different! Usually you tell me everything, but suddenly you’re all tight-lipped and you can’t blame  _ me _ for that.”

“No,” Castiel admitted, irritation still simmering, voice full of anger, “but you had no right to talk to Dean about it.”

“Oh, fuck  _ you, Cas.”  _ Charlie’s arms crossed and she glowered at him. “I was looking out for him! He didn’t even realize he was going into heat. So excuse me for caring that he might not be prepared if you turned him down.”

Just like that, Cas’s anger deflated. His shoulders sagged and he sat back on the chair. Charlie was only doing what she thought was best for Dean. “You’re right.”

“And for another thing—” Charlie’s rant cut off suddenly and she stared at him wide-eyed. “Wait—what?”

“I’m sorry,” he admitted with a shrug, tone contrite. Some of the anger in Charlie’s eyes faded. “You’re right, you were trying to do what was best for him. You were taking care of him, and I can’t fault you for that. It’s what I should be doing.”

“Damn right you should,” Charlie said enthusiastically with a grin. “Don’t think we’re not talking about this later though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied flatly. “Are you okay holding down the fort for a few days? I know Dorothy’s—”

“She’s fine, Cas. We’re fine. I’ll see if Alfie wants to pick up a few shifts.” she said as she pulled him out from behind the cash and pushed him toward the door.

“You know that’s not actually his name,” Cas scolded.

“Yeah, but it stuck. Now go!”

He didn’t argue, just sent her a grateful look over his shoulder as she shoved him out the door. First stop, the grocery store, second and hopefully last stop, Dean’s.

The first thing Dean did when he groggily woke up from his nap was call into work. He was due to start back Monday, but there was no way he was gonna make it. He put in for heat leave—they were always good about it. Not just because Dean had a proven track record of catching up with his workload. Their HR policies were actually really great too.

That done, he headed downstairs and rifled through the fridge. He was still in the early stages, arousal coming on slow and building up beneath his skin. In a few more hours he’d be an insatiable sweaty mess. He didn’t exactly relish going through another heat in this house, but things were what they were.

Eventually he settled on a cheese string, a bottle of water, and some crackers before he wandered over to the couch. He flicked on the TV and forced himself to eat even though he wasn’t particularly hungry. Downing the water was easier. He was already parched, starting to sweat through his clothes a little bit.

A knock on the door startled him and he frowned. No one should be looking for him. Unless, maybe Cas had given Charlie his address to check up on him. The idea turned Dean’s stomach, but he made himself go look out through the peephole. He blinked disbelievingly before he stepped back and opened the door. “Cas?”

Cas’s nostrils flared, his eyes dilated, and Dean sucked in a gasp of air, sure that Cas was about to close the distance between them—half wanting it, even if he was confused. Cas shook his head to the side, and the haze in his eyes cleared. “I know Charlie informed you that I wouldn’t want to, and I understand if  _ you _ don’t want me to … but if you want it, I’d really like to be here for you. I want to help you through this. Dean, I’m—” Cas’s eyes dropped as he cut himself off and Dean tried so damn hard not to read into that. “I care about you, of course I want to help you.”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip, heart pounding, body vibrating with how much he wanted Cas, and it wasn’t all just his heat talking, wasn’t just that he was an omega desperate for an alpha, it was  _ this _ alpha. It was Cas. If he did this, if he gave in to the feelings that he’d been trying to wall up, there might not be any going back for him.

Looking into Cas’s eyes, so blue and and warm and kind, Dean didn’t stand a chance. He lost any argument he could’ve made with himself for why this was a bad idea.

It was just—Cas was holding back even though Dean knew he must be smelling damn near irresistible to him. The same as he would to any other alpha at that moment. Cas’s hands were clenched at his sides while he waited for Dean to decide. So Dean decided. He crashed into Cas with all the force of the ocean crashing onto shore in the middle of a hurricane. His arms curled around Cas’s neck, as he bit and sucked at Cas’s mouth. Cas gripped onto the back of his thighs, lifted him clear off the ground, and guided Dean’s legs to wrap around his waist while he kissed him back every bit as ferociously.

Somehow Cas got them inside the door and kicked it shut, before he slammed Dean back against the wall in the entryway and they both groaned. Kisses were sucked into his neck, teeth biting along his jaw, and he arched into Cas, shamelessly rubbing up against him the best he could. He was burning up, and everything Cas did just stoked the raging fire inside of him, making him moan, gasp, beg. God, he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted Cas’s cock inside of him right then.

Cas staggered away from the wall, still supporting Dean, for a second Dean panicked—limbs tensing around Cas. No way they were getting up those stairs like this. He relaxed instantly as Cas headed for the living room, got them to the couch. So fast that Dean’s head spun with it, Cas stripped them both. He only paused long enough to grab a condom from his wallet and roll it on.

Then he was there, pressed against Dean’s slick skin, with the thick spicy scent of turned on alpha.  _ My alpha, _ the thought came, and Dean didn’t bother to shove it down, too lost in his own pleasure, in Cas kissing him like he was the only thing in the whole world worth knowing.

He was soaking wet and desperate when Cas slid his hand down in between them. Dean groaned low and hot, shuddering  at how fucking good it felt and wanting so much more.

“Cas, just fuck me. I don’t need—I just—God, need your knot. Need you to fuck me, please,” he threw in a “sir,” for good measure and Cas instantly stopped until Dean blinked his eyes open.

“No,” he said clearly, and Dean’s heart squeezed painfully. He didn’t understand. If Cas didn't want—

“We’re not—You don’t have your cuff on, and we’re not scening while you’re in heat. This,” Cas rolled his hips down meaningfully and Dean’s eyelashes fluttered at the little rush of pleasure it caused. “This is just  _ you _ and  _ me. _ Just us. Understand?”

Dean’s heart raced, mind sluggish, but yeah, he got it. “Yeah, Cas,” he breathed, hands sliding into Cas’s hair and tugging him down into another kiss, slower, just as good. There was an edge of desperation just beneath the surface in the way he slid his arms down to dig his fingers into Cas’s shoulders and dragged them down his back. “You and me,” he whispered.

Cas nodded, just slightly, lips brushing over Dean’s as he lined his cock up and slid inside of him. Fullness and pressure and the firm hot slide of him exactly where Dean wanted. He was folded nearly in half, one leg jammed up against the couch cushion and the other tucked into Cas’s elbow. So, so fucking perfectly, Cas drove into him in powerful thrusts. “Harder, Cas, harder.”

God, Cas’s eyes were burning with intensity, the blue of them so dark, and he did, he fucked Dean hard and deep, and made him shake with it. The grunts from Cas's lips lit fire to the kerosene in Dean’s veins. Faster and faster, it didn't take much build up before his knot was tugging at Dean’s rim. Dean panted and writhed, feral in his need. He was so close, pleasure coiled up inside of him so tightly that his muscles were nearly cramping.

Cas’s knot caught and he ground forward hard, rubbing right over Dean’s prostate, and Dean exploded in a shower of pleasure that flooded every pore, every nerve. Splashes of warm jizz messy between their bellies, and Cas kissed him through it. Cas kept him from floating too far away.

He was curled up in his bed, freshly showered after Cas’s knot had gone down and he’d coaxed Dean into cleaning up. He’d barely been conscious in the shower, but he could still feel Cas’s gentle hands washing him, feel the phantom sensation of water on his feverish skin. He kicked off the blankets, already heating up again. The beginning was always the worst for him. Everyone was different but for Dean, the first two days were the hardest.

Driven desperate, he needed to be knotted every few hours and he had no idea how he’d ever thought he could handle this alone here with nothing. Gratefulness washed over him for Cas, and he suddenly didn’t want to be by himself. Cas had only gone downstairs to make them something to eat, but Dean’s thoughts were anything but coherent right now. So he climbed out of bed, not a stitch of clothes on—he’d only get them dirty with how much he kept slicking—and made his way down stairs.

Cas was just plating two grilled cheeses when he walked into the kitchen, but Dean didn’t have much interest in them. What he  _ was _ interested in, was Cas naked beneath an apron that was tied around his neck and waist. It was done up in a lopsided little bow just above the perfect curve of his ass. Dean’s dick filled out fast, and he could tell by the way Cas’s head cocked to the side that he knew Dean was advancing on him. It was likely that Cas had smelled him the second that he'd walked into the room.

He turned around just as Dean stepped into his space. Dean kissed him fiercely, so damn worked up, just from watching him, from the scent of him. Cas spun them, and walked Dean backwards until his ass met the far corner of the kitchen counter. One second he was on his feet, and then the next Cas had him up on the counter. He gasped into Cas’s mouth, and it stuttered into a groan when Cas fisted Dean’s dick, stroking him teasingly while he nipped and bit at his throat.

Dean tried—one hand cupped around the back of Cas’s neck while he arched into his touch—tried so hard to keep his mouth shut and hold back words that were threatening to spill, but then Cas grabbed a condom from the pocket on the chest of his apron.

“Fuckin’ boyscout,” Dean muttered with a laugh. He forgot all about it being funny once Cas had rolled the condom on, and dragged him forward on the counter until his ass was tilted at the right angle, and Dean lost it. “Knot me, Cas. Fuck, God. Want you to bite me.”

Cas shoved the bottom of his apron up, biting down on the juncture between Dean’s neck and shoulder as he pushed his cock into him, smooth, smooth slide of it until he was all the way in. He rocked his hips, thrusting at a frantic pace, groaning against Dean's skin, but it wasn’t enough, he wanted it harder, wanted more. Cas didn’t understand, and Dean didn’t fight himself. Couldn’t. His whole goddamn body ached with need.

“Harder. Bite harder, Cas. Mate me, c’mon. Fuck,” he mindlessly begged even though he knew Cas wasn’t gonna give in. Cas’s teeth dug in a little more, still not hard enough to break the skin but it didn’t matter. He was fucking Dean hard and fast, and it was close enough. Dean’s body jerked as he came, dirtied himself right back up with spurts of come, and he was still panting when Cas pulled out.

He jerked himself off slowly, gaze travelling a slow path between Dean’s kiss swollen mouth, the splashes of come on his chest, and his dripping wet, fucked out hole. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he growled out, voice dirty-dark and Dean almost perked back up at the sight of it when Cas’s head dropped back, exposed his stubbled throat, and the sharp cut of his jaw.

“Dean,” Cas panted, and then sagged forward into Dean’s arms, trembling.

“Did you…?” Dean asked curiously as he let his hands smooth all over Cas's back and shoulders. Soothing him with touch, lips pressed to Cas’s forehead.

Cas gently shook his head, it took him a moment to mumble, “Later.” Eventually, Cas looked up at him with a crooked smile. “Guess you’ll need another shower.”

Tiredly, Dean chuckled and nuzzled into Cas’s throat. Just scented him for a little bit until Cas finally made him get up. He untied his apron and used it to clean Dean off, then sent him back upstairs with a plate carrying a cold grilled cheese and a bottle of water tucked under his arm. He felt a little guilty about leaving Cas to clean up their mess, but mostly he just felt satisfied. At least temporarily. He sort of desperately wished that this didn’t have to end even if he was half-mindless with desire.

Four days of knotting fast and hard every so many hours, and Dean’s body was achy, his emotions run raw. He kept on begging Cas to bite him, mate him, breed him, and now that his stretches of lucidity were lasting longer, he was kinda embarrassed about it. Though he still couldn’t stop himself from asking every single time another wave of heat hit.

Cas didn’t give in, never would. Not just because he didn’t want Dean that way—not permanently, but because Cas wasn’t the kind of guy who’d mate someone while they were out of their mind with heat. He just sucked mark after mark into the skin of Dean’s neck, and he was gonna look like he was someone’s chewtoy when this was all over, but he really didn’t care. Something about Cas doing that for him, giving him as close to what he wanted as he could, made Dean fall just a little farther for him. A little harder. He was also aware enough to realize how completely screwed he was gonna be in a few days time. 


	9. Chapter 9

The last day of Dean's heat dawned early for Cas. Golden sunlight through Dean's window lent everything a hazy glow. They'd managed eight full hours of sleep, and Dean was still dozing. His lightly tanned freckled skin was flushed and damp with sweat. Cas let him sleep. He allowed his gaze roam unchecked over Dean's face. Sooty long lashes, and a cute nose, full pink lips swollen—either from kisses or sleep—beneath a perfect cupid's bow dip. Gorgeous jawline, stubble just passing into the beginning of beard territory.

He hadn't been able to handle the scrape of a razor against skin gone too sensitive, but Cas liked it. There was something inherently sexy about how much more masculine it made him look. Not that Dean wasn't normally all man, Cas knew he was. It just gave his face a rougher countenance. He let himself look his fill, but kept from reaching out for Dean like he wanted to. The rest of today, and then tomorrow were all the time he had left with him. He needed to look while he could, so that he could remember him later.

Dean’s heat, by his own estimation, was due to break today. The longer lapses between rounds of it seemed to be proving him right. A pang of regret squeezed Cas's chest and he knew it was selfish but he wished that they could just stay like this, fingers tangled together on the pillow in between them. Like neither of them could bear to let go, even in sleep.

There was a bittersweet feeling that rose up and scratched at the back of his throat. Tomorrow Dean planned on getting the house ready to sell, and then that would be it. A cavern opened in Cas's chest, a bottomless empty pit at the thought of Dean leaving. At the thought of him walking away, and the fact that he was going to have to let him. Dean didn't belong in Kansas. He didn't belong in the shadow of his childhood. He belonged in California, in bright sunlight, with beaches, and Sam and Eileen. His whole life was there.

It wasn't like Dean had asked him to come with him either. Each time Dean had begged Cas to mate him it’d been a double-edged sword. Words that were etched into Cas’s memory, that made his heart pound and break at the same time, because it hadn’t been real.

“Stop staring at me sleeping,” Dean's lips twitched up. “It's creepy.”

His green eyes slitted open, just enough to focus on Cas’s face with a sleepy smile on his plush lips. There was still heat in those gorgeous eyes, but the clawing need that he'd been at the mercy of for the last few days was fading. Cas’s lips curved into a soft grin, “You’re beautiful,” he said by way of explanation, as if it was obvious.

Dean’s cheeks blushed pink, and his lashes dropped closed. “Uh-huh. C’mere.”

Cas went. He rolled over and settled himself between Dean’s legs, bracing his hands on either side of Dean’s head. Dean’s smile widened, and his hands found their way into Cas’s hair, pulling him down into a lazy kiss. Soft brushes of their lips and leisurely curls of tongue that gradually increased in urgency.

Dean’s hands were all over him, gliding over his neck, his back, and then lower to grab his ass, encouraging him to grind down. Cas dropped onto his right elbow, shifting his weight to the side as he curled his fingers in Dean’s hair. His lips buzzed with Dean’s kisses, his mind hazy with the honey sweet scent of an aroused omega—heat ripe and ready. Dean. His cock slid alongside Dean’s, friction that made them both pant softly into one another’s mouths.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, and Cas echoed with Dean’s name. “Need you,” he mumbled against Cas's lips, breaths stuttered, “please.”

Cas gave the barest nod, “Yes … yes … of course.”

He fumbled one handed for a condom from the nightstand. His fingers closed successfully around the foil packet and he reared up onto his knees, blanket sliding down around their calves. Dean’s eyes were on him, heavy lidded and hot as he watched Cas tear open the packet and roll the condom on.

As soon as he'd finished, Dean reached up for him. Cas let himself fall back down over him, and sucked Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth. Dean’s legs lifted, ass angled perfectly for Cas, and smoothly, easily, like they’d done it for years instead of weeks, he slid into Dean. A slow easy thrust all the way into him, heat and slick that gripped Cas tight. He lost a breath against Dean’s lips. Hips instantly rolling in slow shallow grinds that Dean arched into.

He kept it easy, languorous now that Dean’s desperation had worn off enough. Slow and sweet, Cas kissed Dean, emotions pouring out in the way he touched him, the gentle way he cradled him and fucked him slow. Deep thrusts stuttered their breathing, and Cas knew that he was probably revealing too much about how he felt for Dean, but he couldn’t help it—at least once before Dean left he wanted this. Cas wanted to make love to him, face to face and looking in those world ending green eyes as he steadily pushed them both toward their climaxes.

Dean’s legs locked around his back, one of Cas’s hands held onto his thigh, his other hand crept under Dean’s shoulder, gripping tight for leverage as he drove in harder, long steady snaps of his hips. Cas’s stomach swooped as Dean’s fingers dug into his back, clinging like he didn’t want to let go either.

Much to Dean’s surprise, at some point during his heat, Cas had found time to get the outside of the house cleaned up. When Dean’d gotten showered and dressed that morning, he'd told Cas that he was gonna go out and take another look to remember what needed to be done, Cas had just given him a cryptic little smile and followed him out.

The white siding was pristine, windows washed inside and out, and the damaged shutters beside each window had been replaced with new ones. Dean was gaping, blinking blankly as he tried to figure out how Cas’d gotten so much done. The only time he could think of that Cas’d been gone was when he’d woken up from his nap yesterday to a note saying he was just outside for a little bit.

“I—” Dean tried to find words to express his gratitude, but all he came up with was a thick, “Thank you.”

A smile curled up the corners of Cas’s mouth, his eyes crinkled, “You’re welcome. I thought—if you want to, that is—we could go pick up the Impala. They called while you were napping yesterday. And … I haven’t been there since you and Sam left, but I thought we could—”

Dean bumped his shoulder into Cas’s, “Dude, spit it out.”

“The lake. I thought we could pack a lunch and I know it’s still too cold to swim but I thought it would be … nice.” Cas’s eyes were on the house instead of Dean, his face carefully guarded.

A rush of affection filled Dean’s chest, and he wet his lips, “Sure, why not?”

He was already gone on Cas, how much more damage could one pseudo-date do to his heart? Didn’t matter—it was worth it for the way Cas shot him that sunshine smile. Warm and bright, and Dean’s own face instinctively mirrored his expression.

The rumble of the Impala’s engine settled something in Dean, soothed the frayed edges of his nerves. How could he have gone so long without being behind her wheel? She radiated a sense of rightness, of home, and goodness that Dean hadn’t even realized he’d been missing. He was careful with her on the gravel road that lead to the parking lot, and he let her idle for a minute once he parked in the deserted lot.

Cas glanced over at him curiously, and Dean shook his head, turning off the car and pocketing his keys, “Just realizing how much I missed that sound.”

Patiently, Cas simply nodded and waited for Dean to be ready before they climbed out of the car. There was a slight chill in the mid-morning air, and Cas had been right—it was definitely still way too cold for swimming, but they walked down the path to the little strip of beige sand beach and found a familiar dock that stretched out above the water.

Cas tested the wood even though it looked fine, before he indicated it was okay to walk on. They ended up sitting at the end, feet dangling just above the water that was calmly lapping against the wooden posts beneath them. Everything was so peaceful, quiet sounds of nature and the water filling the silence between them, making it comfortable.

He unconsciously reached for Cas’s hand, and was glad he had when Cas silently interlaced their fingers in his lap. There was a melancholic edge to both of their scents, but they didn’t talk about it. What could he even say? He shifted closer to Cas and tried to enjoy the warm, reassuring solidness of him against his side. Fuck, he was gonna miss this—miss Cas. He bit his lip against the rising tide of emotion that was waiting in the wings to crush him under its weight. It took some effort, but he boxed it off in his mind to unpack later.

There was only so much time left with Cas, only so much longer he could pretend that Cas was  _ his. _

Back at Dean’s after they’d stopped for Cas to get his truck, and they spent the day not doing much of anything. They were both still worn out from Dean’s heat, and Dean was caught up in his own head in a way he wished he wasn’t. They wound up marathoning the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy even though they’d both already seen it. Breaks were staggered in for Chinese food and bathroom trips. They alternated between Dean lying on Cas, or Cas curled up with his head in Dean’s lap, Dean’s fingers slipping through his hair.

Nine hours in, Dean was cuddled up with his head tucked under Cas’s chin drifting into sleep even as he struggled to keep his eyes open and hold onto this for just a little longer. Exhaustion crept in on him though, the soothing stroke of Cas’s thumb at the small of his back, and his lips pressing gently to Dean’s forehead the last sensations he noticed.

Morning came much too early, much too soon. For a long while, Dean pretended that he was still sleeping so that he didn’t have to move. He could tell by Cas’s breathing that he was doing the same, but Cas wasn’t calling him on it, so he returned the favor. Beneath him Cas was sturdy, strong arms around Dean’s waist, and fuck, it was gonna be hard to peel himself away. Not to mention the inebriating scent of Cas, spicy and calming, addictive. How was he supposed to give that up and drive halfway across the country on his own?

Eventually, the need to piss won out. Dean nuzzled into Cas’s chest a little—soaked up his scent before he extricated himself with a sheepish smile. “Bathroom,” he mumbled at Cas’s questioning glance.

“Ahh,” Cas said, sleep scratchy voice eliciting a wriggle of warmth from Dean’s gut. “Go ahead, I’ll start coffee and breakfast. Feed you at least, before you get on the road.”

Dean’s eyes fell as he tried to control his breathing when he thought about going. “Thanks, sounds good. Then we can pack up what’s left of the food and you can take it home. It’ll just go bad here.”

Cas nodded, “Okay.”

Dean bit his lip and offered Cas a weak smile before he headed upstairs. Might as well go change and pack up his duffel after he used the washroom. He considered showering, but discovered that he really didn’t like the idea of washing Cas’s scent off just yet. So he wandered into the bathroom, pissed and washed his hands. Avoided his own eyes in the mirror so he didn’t have to see how pathetic he looked now that he was alone and didn’t have to fake being all right.

His stomach clenched, and the hole that felt like it was forming in his chest ached caustically. He swallowed hard as he dried his hands and then he leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the door, gave himself a moment to get his feelings back under control. A few slow breaths in through his nose later, he straightened up. He squared his shoulders and made his way to his bedroom.

The boxes he was keeping were already shoved into the Impala’s back seat and trunk. The donation items had been dropped off. His bedroom walls were bare. Darker rectangles left on faded paint the only indication that something had been there. People were coming next week to repaint the interior, haul away the old furniture and then it would go on the market. It felt a little weird to think about never coming back to this house that he’d grown up in, but maybe the next family who lived there would be more functional than his had been.

With a sigh, he stripped down and changed into another pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a dark red button up left open. A rueful smile tugged up one corner of his lips as he thought about the fact that he was gonna miss getting to be in casual clothes all the time too. Monday morning he’d be back in a suit at his desk. He scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair and left it the way it fell. He didn’t have the energy to give much of a damn about how he looked. Not now.

Downstairs, Cas was waiting for him in the kitchen, and Dean let his eyes travel over the curve of his back, his ass, those thick thighs that made his mouth go dry. He memorized the messiness of Cas’s hair, the broadness of his shoulders and the soft scent of him mingling with the smell of eggs and bacon sizzling in the pans in front of him. God, what wouldn’t Dean give to get to have this every day?

“Are you planning to stare at me all morning?” Cas asked without glancing over his shoulder, a smile in his voice, “I was rather rudely informed that it’s ‘creepy’ to stare like that.”

Dean gave into the impulse to crowd up behind Cas; he wrapped his arms around his waist and tucked his chin over Cas’s shoulder. “Yeah, if the person’s sleeping. I was just admiring the view.”

Cas chuckled as he slid the eggs onto two plates that he’d set next to the stove. “Ahh. I’m sorry that I failed to instinctively comprehend the difference.”

“Mmm. You should be,” Dean teased, lips just under Cas’s ear, as he let his hand drift over the hard flat muscles of Cas’s abdomen.

“Dean,” Cas’s hand on his wrist stopped his descent, “if you keep teasing me, I’ll be forced to bend you over the table. Trust me when I say it would severely delay your impending departure.”

He sagged forward against Cas and blew out a wistful sigh, face tucked into the curve of his neck. “Man, I wish I could put it off.”

Cas’s arms settled over Dean’s where it was still wrapped around his waist, “Me too. You have a life to get back to, though.”

“Yeah.”

They dragged out eating breakfast as long as they could. Idle chatter between bites and sips of coffee. Then they washed and put away the dishes, bagged up the groceries in the fridge and the pantry and Cas loaded them into his truck while Dean made one last trip through the house to see if he’d forgotten anything. He spent a long moment staring into his dad’s sanitized room, chest compressing with grief and regret, compounded by the loss he was facing when he was going to drive away. Eyes wet, he bit his lip as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Bye, Dad.”

He quickly rubbed his sleeve over his face and wiped his eyes, then swallowed thickly as he spun around and walked back down the hall, down the stairs one last time. His fingers trailed over the wood of the bannister and he remembered the time Sam had told him he didn’t believe that Dean could ride it to the bottom. Too proud to back down, Dean had climbed up. Luckily he’d only broken his ankle when he’d fallen off near the bottom and not his neck. Kinda funny now that the memory of how bad it hurt was long faded. Sam’s panicked face, and his guilty confession to Mom.

The memories that haunted this house weren’t all bad, Dean figured as he looked into the kitchen and remembered his parents dancing around in there while he and Sam banged spoons on pots to the song the radio was playing. The baby fat grin Sam had on his face, eyes sparkling.

Cas was waiting for him outside the door, patient as ever while Dean locked up. He handed the key over to Cas so that he could let the painters in next week, and Cas offered him a sad, sympathetic sort of smile, like he understood just how hard this was for Dean. Cas held out his hand and Dean interlaced their fingers. The warm weight of it was as comforting as it was an excruciating reminder of the fact that this was almost over. He wasn't gonna get to hold Cas's hand again after this.

They both smelled miserable, Cas’s underscored with a nervousness that Dean tried not to pin hope on. Cas probably just felt bad for Dean was all. He could undoubtedly scent how upset Dean was, and even if Cas didn’t want to be with him—Dean knew Cas cared. It was part of why this hurt so much.

“I have something in the truck for you,” Cas admitted as they drew up alongside the Impala. Next to it Dean’s old car sat with a for sale sign and Cas’s cellphone number on it. Another reminder of what a good friend Cas was to him.

“Yeah?” Dean quirked his head in question, but Cas just nodded and walked over to his car. He bent in the open window and grabbed a package wrapped in green wrapping paper from the seat.

Looking nervous and shy—uncertain, he brought it back over. The expression on his face was nothing like the confident alpha Dean’d become so familiar with.

Cas bit his lip, and looked at the ground as he thrust it out toward Dean, “Open it when you’re home, okay?”

He looked so antsy that Dean easily agreed, genuine concern for Cas overriding his curiosity as he took the gift. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas met his eyes then, something intensely sorrowful there for a second before he smiled softly. “I’ll let you know if I get any calls about the car.”

Instead of replying, Dean threaded his fingers in the back of Cas’s hair and pulled him into a last slow kiss. Lingering grazes of their lips that gradually got firmer, deepening when Cas’s tongue flicked lightly at the seam of Dean’s mouth and slipped hotly inside.

Dean was clinging, but he couldn’t help it. His heart was shattering agonizingly between them. As soon as he pulled away that was it—this was over. So he held on tighter and kissed harder. Brutally aware now that he’d never stood a chance at keeping his heart out of this. So goddamn in love with Cas that his chest felt like a gaping cavernous hollow, his breathing went harsh.

Finally, Cas was the one to pull away first, eyes so fucking blue and sad. He didn’t seem like he was doing so awesome either. It was right there on the tip of Dean’s tongue, heart pounding at a crazy fast pace, to admit how he felt, to tell Cas everything and hope for the best. Cas’s hands gently came up and cupped Dean’s face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones as he leaned in and lightly touched their lips together one more time.

There was this little smile on Cas's face when he pulled back and Dean’s heart sank. ‘Cause even if he did—even if he told Cas just how in love with him that he was … Dean’s life was in California. With Sam and Eileen, and his soon-to-be niece or nephew. With the job that he loved, and Cas’s was here. Besides, Cas hadn’t given any indication that he’d want more than what they’d had. So with one last weak smile, Dean said, “Bye, Cas.”

“Drive safe,” Cas told him as he stepped back.

Dean’s lips pulled into a smile even as the cavern in his chest threatened to swallow him whole. “Always.”

He opened the Impala’s driver side door, and slipped inside, leather and the classic car smell of her almost soothing as he closed the door behind him and started her up. Cas waved at him as he pulled out of the driveway and Dean lifted his fingers on the wheel to wave back. Then he left his heart in the driveway of his childhood home and headed west. 


	10. Chapter 10

Dean’s first day back at work was dragging. He was listless. Everything felt forced. It wasn’t hard to figure out why the manuscript on his screen wasn’t holding his attention. Dean knew the author well, he loved her work, and normally he’d be chomping at the bit to dig into her latest draft. Right then … well, he’d just read the same paragraph for the sixth time and his brain still wasn’t registering the meaning of the words. He propped his elbows up on his sleek dark wood desk and dropped his face into his palms.

“Get it together,” he told himself, not that it worked. His office reeked of depressed omega because he wasn't capable of getting this under control. Even Donna, his usually cheerful assistant was looking glum out at her desk whenever he caught sight of her. She’d always been pretty in tune with Dean’s moods, and it was one of the reasons they got along so well. A little twinge of guilt needled at him for bringing her down.

God, he really was pathetic. He glanced up at the clock, watching the last minute before noon tick down, and then he laid his head on his desk. His stomach was empty, but he ignored the lunch he’d forced himself to prepare this morning, leaving it in the mini fridge in the corner of his office. Wallowing—that was what he was doing. He was missing Cas so much that it felt way worse than any physical wound could. He was drained, wrung out and exhausted.

The gift from Cas was still unwrapped in the trunk of his car. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to open it yet. It was like if he didn't open it, he thought he could stem the hurt he was going through somehow. A part of him kept thinking that knowing what Cas's goodbye was would be more painful than the mystery.

Suddenly he  _ needed _ to know what it was. His body protested, but he forced himself to his feet. He tried to smile at Donna as he passed, though the sympathetic look she gave him said he hadn’t really managed.

The elevator ride down, the walk to his car and the return trip took longer than he’d have liked. His heart was in his throat as he shut his office door behind himself again. On his desk when he sat down, he found a box of donuts. A note on top of it in Donna’s messy writing:  _ Eat, Dean! _

Fondness for her bubbled up in his chest as he pushed the box to the side, and set down the gift from Cas in its place. He chewed on the corner of his thumb while he contemplated the wrapping. After a second’s indecision, he tore into it. Beneath the wrapping paper was a big white box, and he lifted the top off.

His breath caught in his throat as his fingers brushed over the smooth butter-soft leather of his cuff. He blinked hard as he pulled it out and set it on his desk. Was Cas giving him something to remember him by? A lump formed in Dean’s throat and he swallowed hard. His eyes flicked back to the bottom of the box, and his eyebrows rose. A manuscript, twelve point Times New Roman font sat inside. Castiel Novak in bold and below his name, For Dean.

Gingerly, Dean reached in and pulled out the manuscript. He dropped the now empty box onto the floor next to his chair and laid the pages down on his desk in front of him. He shuffled his chair forward, and eagerly opened it up to the first page. Instantly, Dean was sucked into the story. It started off with a main character named Carter, the similarities to Cas obvious. From his blue eyes, messy dark hair and his personality it was easy to see Cas had poured a lot of himself into this book.

It was good, really good. Well written, and interesting. Carter was a lonely guy whose best friend had just taken off for greener pastures while he stayed behind in their tiny town and regretted that he hadn’t somehow found an excuse to go with him. Dean’s chest was heavy just reading about how alone Carter had felt. Why hadn’t they thought to ask Cas to come with them?

For one thing, it wouldn’t have even occured to Dean back then. Cas was Sam’s best friend, and sure, he was around a lot, but Dean had only really noticed him in a vague way, always associated with his little brother. Sam hadn’t ever indicated that Cas had any inclinations about tagging along, and if Cas’s story could be used as a gauge for real life, Cas hadn’t ever let on to Sam either. Too worried that he was being weird, or overstepping.

Dean refocused and lost himself in the story again. The second chapter was where it veered off from a close proximity of Cas’s actual history into fantasy with the introduction of Dustin. A guy who was new to town, who seemed to take an interest in Carter at the bookstore where he worked. Green-eyed, cocky and gorgeous. Tall with freckles that dusted his face and full pink lips that left Carter tongue-tied. Dean chuckled. Not really much doubt who that was supposed to represent.

Eventually the story heated up enough that Dean found himself shifting in his seat, half-hard and starting to slick but he couldn’t put the book down. By the time he got through the first power play heavy sex scene his bottom lip was chewed red. Images Cas had described vivid in his mind, and bringing up sensation memory that left his heart thumping wildly.

It was clear from some of the description that this had definitely been written before they’d been intimate and warmth swelled in Dean’s chest—something like hope blossoming with each page he read. Excitement in his stomach was a living thing. His heart stuttered in his chest when he got to the climax of the story. The part where Carter gathered his courage and confessed to Dustin that he was in love with him. That he’d loved him for as long as he’d known him.

This—Dean’s mind stumbled over the thought—this was was Cas’s love letter to him. This was Cas telling Dean how he felt through Carter and Dustin, and Dean’s hands shook as he flipped to the last page.

_ Dean,  _

_ In case you didn’t understand the implications of this story—which of course I doubt because you’ve always been incredibly intelligent—I love you. I know that this isn’t an ideal time for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way for me. I fully understand if this was just a distraction for you. _

_ You should know, though, that I do love you, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You have a life in California, I know that. If you wanted me to … if you love me back, my life in Lawrence isn't enough to keep me here.  _ You’re _ worth leaving for. _

_ I don’t know if you’ll even read this, but I hope you find this letter.  _

_ Love, _

_ Castiel _

Dean’s fingers brushed over the words on the page, over Cas’s blue ink signature. His fingers curled in the paper and tore it from the manuscript. He clutched it in one hand while he opened his top drawer with the other hand and slid Cas’s manuscript inside. A huge grin split his lips as he folded the note and shoved it in his pocket. He grabbed one of the powdered donuts from the box Donna had left him, suddenly famished. He took a bite and rushed out of his office.

Donna looked up at him startled when he stopped by her desk. “Uh, boss?” she motioned at his mouth, “Ya got a little somethin’.…”

Quickly Dean rubbed at his lips, and Donna’s mouth twitched, but he ignored it. “Can you book me on the next flight to Kansas City International and arrange a car to pick me up and drive me to Lawrence when I get there? Just put it on my card. Oh, and put in for a couple days leave for me. Just tell them I’m sick, I’ve still got sick leave left.”

Donna’s brows shot up, “Are you? Somethin’ wrong, Dean?”

Touched by her concern, Dean shook his head and bit down on his grin, “Not anymore. Just—there’s something I have to take care of back there and I gotta do it now.”

Her smile back at him was perplexed but genuine, “Well, okie-dokie then, get going. I’ll handle the details.”

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t until Dean was boarding the plane that his nerves kicked in with a swift sudden reminder that he was terrified of flying. Donna booked him first class, and he was one of only a few people in that section. The flight attendant kept hovering over him, undoubtedly scenting his acute discomfort, but he waved off the drinks she offered him, gripped the arm rests tight and tried to focus on his breathing and what he’d say to Cas.

Once they were at cruising altitude it was slightly easier to manage a lungful of air without feeling like he was gonna choke on it. Somehow, he made it through the entire two hour and forty nine minute flight, and landing, without barfing—though that’d been a close call.

After disembarking he found a driver holding a sign that said Winchester.

“Need help with your luggage?” he asked after Dean introduced himself.

“Nah, didn't bring any,” Dean admitted with a shrug.

The driver gave Dean a weird look, but he seemed to shrug it off after a second, with a polite smile. “Alright then, this way Mr. Winchester.”

Despite getting stuck in rush hour traffic, the drive was quiet. It probably would’ve been the perfect time to think of what he wanted to say to Cas, especially since he hadn’t done a very good job of that on the plane, but when they pulled up in front of Cas’s store, he still didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was gonna say to him.

Dean was dishevelled, suit rumpled and tie tugged askew. He probably looked awful and a new kind of anxiety writhed in his gut. What was he doing? He straightened his tie and smoothed his shirt, tipped the driver and climbed out of the car. He was going after what he wanted,  _ that _ was what he was doing.

He squared his shoulders and walked across the sidewalk, flung open the door in a way he was totally sure looked pretty damn awesome. Charlie’s eyes widened when she caught sight of him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, and Dean scanned the store for Cas as he headed over toward her.

“Is he here?” Dean asked, and she finally snapped out of her stupor, eyes sparkling, grin on her face as she nodded.

“Cas!” she called out toward the back, “Get the fuck out here!”

Dean chuckled at her enthusiasm, and like this scene was straight out of a memory, the door crashed as Cas rushed out of the back in a panic at Charlie’s distress. “Charlie, what’s wr—Dean?”

Cas’s eyes were so wide and blue and Dean’s heart was gonna thunder right out of his goddamn chest. He pulled the folded up paper out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “I got your letter.”

Cas stepped closer to him. “I—”

“Did you mean it?” Dean asked, hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “‘Cause Sam said you didn’t do relationships, and I got the feeling you didn’t want anything more than a fling, and—”

“Because they weren’t you,” Cas said, cutting him off. “I didn’t want someone long term because I could never get over you.” Cas looked embarrassed, cheeks pink and one arm crossing over his chest defensively. “Dean, I’ve been in love with you for,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “let’s just say a long time.”

Dean’s own cheeks burned but he moved into Cas’s space. “I didn’t know.”

Cas glanced almost shyly up at him, “I didn’t want you to. You were so—Dean, you’ve always been so far out of my league. I was just a dorky kid with a crush and that was okay. Then you came back, and you told me that first night that we could just have fun together while you were here, and I don’t know … I guess I thought … if this is all I can have, then so be it.”

In denial, Dean shook his head, “I said that because I thought that’s what  _ you _ wanted. God, Cas,” Dean grinned at him, heart racing stupid fast in his chest. “I love you so much. Maybe I haven’t loved you as long, but I love you  _ now.” _

A high pitch squeak erupted from their left, and they both ignored it. “Dean do you—what are you—”

“Mate me,” Dean said, not a hint of hesitation in his voice, and there was another squeak. He shot an irritated glance at Charlie. She didn’t even look sorry. He turned back to Cas and focused his attention on him. “Cas, I know it’s fast and I know it’s crazy, but I love you. I wanna be with you. Mate me.”

Cas’s lips crashed into Dean’s, his hands cradling Dean’s face like he was something precious, something treasured. “Yes,” he whispered soft against Dean’s mouth. Then they were both grinning at each other, probably both wearing the same ridiculous expression. Dean laughed happily, and Cas pulled him into another kiss. Full of so much feeling that Dean’s heart soared with it.

“Not in the store!” Charlie cried out, and Dean laughed again. He managed to step back, and pocket the letter, though he couldn’t take his eyes off of Cas. “Quit being gross. Cas, take him home! I got this.”

That seemed to snap Cas out of their staring contest and he smiled fondly at Charlie. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alfie’s gonna be happy he’ll get full time hours. You better visit though, you big jerk.” Her eyes were a little misty, and she crossed the room to hug Cas tightly.

“Of course, I will. It’s not that far,” Cas said as he wrapped his arms around her, and Dean realized that they must’ve talked about this. For some reason, that made affection for both of them spread sticky through his chest.

Charlie turned her attention on him when Cas released her, “And you,” she jabbed a finger in Dean’s chest, “you better take care of my best friend. He’s got a grumpy shell that he fools a lot of people with, but we both know he’s a softie. You better not hurt him.”

Dean glanced over at Cas, “She’s kinda scary.”

Sympathetically, Cas nodded, “I’ve been warning people for years.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes and him, and Dean held his hands up, “Cross my heart.”

Apparently satisfied, she nodded. “Okay, get out of here before I revoke my blessing and demand that Cas stays here forever.”

Cas pressed a soft kiss to her temple and she smiled as they left. It struck Dean exactly how much Cas was giving up for him. Guilt twisted in his gut as they approached Cas’s truck. He didn’t get to worry about it for long though, because Cas backed him up against the passenger door, kissing him thoroughly. His body pressed comfortingly tightly to Dean’s, one hand cradling his jaw. Like he knew just what Dean was thinking, Cas whispered, “I want this, Dean. I want you.”

Shakily, Dean replied, “Good,” and poured his relief into another slow kiss.

At this rate, they weren’t gonna make it home, Dean thought hazily. Unfortunately, Cas seemed to share that sentiment, and had greater restraint than Dean because he pulled back.

The blackout curtains in his room were pulled shut when they got there. Dark, but enough light to see by. Cas stopped short of the bed and turned to face Dean. He hardly dared to breathe as he closed in on him—couldn’t believe that he got to have this, that he got to have  _ Dean _ like this. Dean shot him that lazy smirk he’d fallen in love with so long ago, and Cas was drawn instinctively toward him.

They moved in slow, tension underlying their every move. Their noses brushed, and Dean let out a little puff of breath, gaze flickering between each of Cas’s eyes. Cas thumbed over Dean’s bottom lip a second before his mouth followed. Arousal surged up in Cas's gut at the way Dean gave so easily, lips parted for his kiss instantly, sweet and perfect. The scent of Dean’s desire and affection filled Cas’s senses—inebriating, addictive.

Slowly, they undressed each other, clothing shed between kisses that increased in depth and fervor. Ragged breaths and gasps that sounded loud, desperate. Naked at last, they climbed onto the bed, and Cas wanted to take his time—but Dean was practically wild beneath him. Surging up against his body, and frantically kissing him, and everything he did brought out the alpha in Cas. Made him possessive, made him want to claim, and fuck. That was exactly what he was going to do.

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean begged, “God, I’ve been half-hard since I read your book at lunch. Knot me, mate me. Fuck, please.”

The speed at which Cas grabbed a condom from his nightstand drawer and got it on likely deserved awards. There would be time later, for going slow, but right now, Dean wanted it fast, and Cas did too. Dean drew his legs up, and Cas slipped his fingers down, found him soaking wet and ready. He sucked the slick from his fingers while Dean watched with dark eyes and groaned.

Cas leaned down and braced his weight on one forearm tucked under Dean’s shoulder, using his free hand to guide himself slowly into Dean. Searing hot slide, so tight that Cas’s whole body shuddered as he buried himself as deep as he could get. Dean’s hot breath rushing out against Cas's open mouth. One hand in Dean’s hair, another on the side of his neck, thumb brushing his jaw, Cas slowly rolled his hips. Long slide of his cock almost all the way out and then a slick glide right back in. Dean always felt amazing around him, and Cas never wanted to be anywhere else but right there.

“Cas,” Dean panted, hands in Cas’s hair, eyes desperate, “Faster. Need it faster, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Cas agreed, lust and love for Dean swelling up in his chest as he rocked into him faster. “God, I love you.”

Through quick breaths Dean gasped out, “Love you.”

Slick friction spiraled heat and pleasure through Cas, even as he focused on making it good for Dean. He shifted his hips right, and Dean’s moans ratcheted up in pitch and need. Desperate little grunts and drawn out whimpers punched out of him with every forceful thrust of Cas’s hips. Dean was beautiful, cheeks flushed and glowing with sweat, eyes half-lidded and locked on Cas's.

“Cas, fuck,” he choked out, hands on the back of Cas’s head, guiding Cas’s mouth to his throat, “Bite me. Mate me. Mate me. God, fuck, Cas. Do it.”

Hard and fast, his hips were snapping into Dean, and Dean writhed beneath him, legs crossed over Cas’s back. He scraped his teeth along the column of Dean’s neck, scented him and sought out the perfect place to bite down. He knew he found it when Dean went primal beneath him, fingernails clawing ruthlessly at his back and whining in the back of his throat.

His knot was swelling rapidly, it was getting harder and harder to push it back inside of Dean. Bursts of pleasure each time he did. His own breaths and groans were loud in his ears as he sealed his mouth to Dean’s neck.

“Cas, please, please,” Dean begged as he dragged red welts into Cas’s back, and when Dean’s body started to seize up, Cas gave into the violently urgent need to bite down and claim. His teeth broke skin, and Dean came with a full body shudder. He stuttered out Cas’s name as he spurted slicky between them and squeezed so tight around Cas’s knot that it triggered Cas’s own climax.

The heat that’d been steadily gathering in Cas’s belly flooded outward in trembling pulses, jaw locked on Dean’s neck as he came with a low groan. Drawn out shivers quivered through him, Dean’s fingers dug into his back as he shook beneath him.

He was still jerking through his orgasm when Dean guided his mouth away and tilted Cas’s neck to the side, settled on a place and sucked the skin into his mouth before he clamped down and pierced it with his teeth. Another rush of release whited out Cas's vision as he chanted Dean’s’ name breathlessly.

It took him a while to catch his breath after that, but once he had, he lost it again to the feel of Dean’s lips against his. The emotions in his chest for Dean, for his mate, expanded exponentially—fondness and affection and so much love that Cas’s body could hardly be expected to contain it. So he funneled it into the way he kissed Dean, the way he stroked his fingers, awed, over Dean’s cheeks and jaw, through his hair as they waited out Cas’s knot. This was forever. This was permanent. They belonged together, to one another, and Cas was never going to forget how lucky he was. Not for a second.

After Cas's knot went down, when they were hastily cleaned up, and lying side by side, Dean looked at him with the softest, sweetest smile and Cas was certain that his true purpose in life was to keep that look on Dean’s face. He swore to himself that he'd do everything he could to ensure it.

“So,” Dean said with a quirk of his eyebrow, “California?”

Wide and happy, Cas grinned at him, nothing but excitement in his voice when he replied, “California.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. I hope you loved this story as much as I loved working on it. Thanks again to [@deancebra](http://deancebra.tumblr.com) for the beautiful art prompt, the inspiration, the laughs, and the ideas. <3<3<3 Please check out and reblog the artpost [here](https://deancebra-art.tumblr.com/post/174597496468/warning-nsfw-very-graphic-porn-underneath-the). 
> 
> Thanks to [@Brenna_fae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenna_Fae/pseuds/Brenna_Fae) & [@LoudenSwainfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/pseuds/LoudenSwainfangirl) for always being such wonderful supporters & cheerleaders when I need you. 
> 
> Lastly, I thought it'd be fun to include a little playlist of the songs I listened to while I was writing. You can find a link to that [here](http://DaydreamDestiel.tumblr.com/playlist).
> 
> [Link to reblog the masterpost](https://daydreamdestiel.tumblr.com/post/174640903082/deancasreversebang-title-the-starting-place). 
> 
> If you liked my fic, think about leaving a kudos, if you really, really liked my fic comments are definitely appreciated and help keep me writing. ;)


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